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asherlockstudy · 2 months ago

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Wonderhole E2, E3 & E4

I am going to write about these three in the same post because there is significantly less to write about episodes 3 & 4 than about the first and the second episodes and even last year's monthly videos. I am hoping there will be more to discuss in the upcoming Red vs Blue episode. I wonder whether they considered the Flight Simulation and the Time Capsule so "heavy" that they decided to ease it a bit before the finale. I guess we will find out soon.

We Time Traveled to the Year 2224

Certainly, the Rhinkiest of these three episodes and the one which certainly belongs to the One Story saga.

Rhett and Link decide to pursue extended longevity and eternal life. Rhett explains how they just have to survive in a good condition for 20-30 years more and then they will be able to achieve it. At face value this is not exactly Rhett's crap by the way. I was reading a book about the progress in geriatric medicine and this was stated there; whoever makes it to twenty years from now will hopefully have a lot of new age medicine available to delay growing old and the health issues associated with it.

This episode has some of the most lewd jokes Rhett and Link have ever made. However, they are often given so offhandedly that I did not see much seriousness, any significant symbolism in them. For example, yes, they suck anal toys (Link sucks Rhett's heavily used one) but this was just meant to be an adult joke, I'm not gonna derive any meaning for their relationship through this. Another example is Rhett's titanium - tight ass or the "I don't think I can last much longer with you inside me".

"From journeys long and miles worn, within these walls you are reborn. When weary soul sole is stripped away, whether from work or whether play, come to me with offerings and I will show you fresh new strings." Now, that's more interesting. Rhett points out that there is a double meaning in this. This totally reminds me of the concept of the Bahau Moon riddle, although there the allegory was a little different. Here it is nowhere as serious but it remains 100% sexually coded.

There are two mentions of their wives, one is that they are waiting for their wives "to be thawed", the other is that they both look distressed and uncomfortable when the letter from their past selves assumes their families are doing all right. My speculation is that their wives' bodies were cryopreserved until a revival became scientifically possible. So they are waiting for them to be thawed but it has not happened yet. What does this tell us though? It tells us that whatever knowledge or decision they had to make to achieve eternal life, they shared it with each other and not with their family members. Somehow, there was a choice made or there was a consequence that led to Rhett and Link living forever together but the revival of the wives, maybe even the children, was desirable yet secondary, optional. That's... that's something, for sure.

Did you guys notice the name of the shop next to the shoe repair shop? Their commitment is crazy:

We actually do get some pretty interesting themes here. Rhett and Link visit a shoe soul sole repair shop and the owner promises to keep their clue for the time capsule hidden inside a treasure box, protected very well. This just seems to hint at somebody keeping a secret very well and Rhett and Link completely trusting them to keep doing so. Is the time capsule an allegory for... truth? The official premise (or whatever it is) seems to further support this:

Keep it buried... as long as possible.

The next clues lead them to the desert, the same desert where they dug the medium (and the huge) sized holes. They even wear similar outfits; some of the garments are the same and some are changed. This was clear homage to the Hole Digging video. Besides, Rhett and Link have said there is connection between all these videos (although they probably have made it too hard to discern this for their own good).

There they pick up a fight, disagreeing about the direction they should follow. Rhett prefers the one way, the main way, the standard way pointed by the play button, whereas Link argues they should try "all the ways". The argument escalates and Link screams how Rhett's longevity idea has stuck them into an eternal hellscape (the 2224 universe seems to be particularly unfree and restrictive). Link also adds he 'd rather be with Rhett at their pod watching a sequel of Fast & the Furious than in this adventure, hunt and all, which must be 2224's equivalent for domesticity. Link protests that Rhett is not always right but he simply never changes and in his fury he missteps and falls from a cliff to his death.

During Link's last moments, Rhett desperately considers carrying Link to the nearest cloning facility and put his chip to another Link, a loud nod to their Sketchtober 2015 BFFs video. With the very subtle prompt "Put me in you" Link implores Rhett to put his chip in him, in an attempt to rescue his consciousness. Rhett complies, so he tries to save Link. We return to the One Story tropes (not that we ever left them with this one) where Rhett needs to save Link from something and like we will also see here the only outcome is that Rhett gets destroyed as well. Rhett finds the treasure box only to see there was a whole lot of nothing inside it. In a deteriorating condition he returns to the former grounds of Mythical where the semi-android hacker working there gives him two options: a) they yank Link's consciousness chip out and he's gone forever but Rhett lives on or b) they yank out both chips which have merged and become one and save them in a deadlock in a hard drive.

A deadlock is a situation in which two computer programs sharing the same resource are effectively preventing each other from accessing the resource, resulting in both programs ceasing to function.

Rhett opts for the latter. He sacrifices his life and follows Link. Meanwhile, the hacker indeed saves their consciousnesses - which have become one - in this deadlock, "alone" in a hard drive and hides the hard drive in the previously empty box. They place the box in a dusty shelf and there is this implication that nobody will know or care about this ever again. Also, the fact that it is a deadock is important as well: we have two consciousnesses operating like computer programs which are apparently assessing data differently and this leads them to a deadlock that neutralises them both. So, to bring this to reality, the reason there is so much delay or nothing happens at all is because they have completely different mindsets about what's to be done and how it should be approached. This is actually something we have discussed several times before, how they seem to be on a totally different page.

Beyond the interpretations that can be made for this, we see again a conclusion that we have seen before in several scripted videos. In Hazel, they end up trapped in the woods of the middle room for eternity, in the Brown Diamond they remain trapped to the Bahau Moon to their deaths, in the Unhaunted House they are murdered inside this house without any witness. We have this theme of their souls, their consciousnesses, sometimes even their physical bodies being trapped together, as one, forever without anyone knowing.

So, if we attempt to connect all these pieces together, first of all we get the "wherever you go, I go", the timelessness, the forever. This is a promise to each other, they will be together forever. Then we also have the buried time capsule, which Rhett wants to keep buried for as long as possible, which eventually leads to a long, torturous life that frustrates Link deeply. Link tries to distance himself from this situation but he falls to his death (because it's impossible for him to just let go). Rhett has the choice to go on on his own but instead he opts to try and save Link or die along in his efforts, which is what happens. Ultimately what remains of them is their love, their joined souls, consciousnesses and how they poured their truth in their creation and although it endures forever, it is for nobody to see.

Again, this is the classic story arc we see in most of their scripted videos. Whether it is because he loses control (Digging a Medium sized Hole), memory and freedom (Hazel, TLCOBC), his very life (UnHaunted House, Time Capsule), Link needs to be saved by Rhett but Rhett falls in the trap even more deeply and condemns them together.

Regarding the emptiness of the box, an Anon I just received has a great interpretation that finds me very agreeable, I am linking their mail here. What I will write here is basically the same or very close to what they describe, maybe with a slightly darker twist. Throughout the video, we have the concept of time which seems to be eternal but is not (at some point Rhett says about eternity that it feels like "you have too much time yet not enough") and even though current Rhett and Link seem to be amused by the idea of a scavenger hunt for an empty box, the surviving future Rhett found it disappointing. We can only imagine how mad it would make Link, had he not died already, because he was already frustrated and angry for the hunt alone, so he would probably be furious if he saw what the "reward" was. Moreover, Link puts the blame on Rhett for all of this and it's true that Rhett came up with this idea.

It's like an allegory for Rhett who has this drive and ambition for their career, their creativity, a life of adventure in this context and with this obsession he overlooks and delays other things that in truth may be more meaningful. Years will pass and Rhett will be looking for his masterpiece, their peak creation, recognition and eventually they will go, retire, withdraw, die and nothing will remain behind except for their love, the connection of their souls, which was what was truly timeless about them yet it was the one thing that was kept buried in a box in the dust and never brought to light properly. In the end, nobody appreciated it for what it truly was, neither an observer nor they, for they wasted their time delaying it and trying to find meaning elsewhere. By "they", let's be real, I mostly mean Rhett.

To my understanding this is self-reflection, maybe also a critique of Rhett to himself, a warning of what could be coming, something that Link seems to have notified him about multiple times (the e-mail, everybody?) but maybe it's poor timing to say this now, I sense there is a lot of distance to be run still from theory and creativity to actual action. This video alludes to a reality in which the action was not taken.

We Went to Extremes to Drink a Cloud

Episode 3 is not as heavy with meaning and symbolism. It is surely a "retelling" of their childhood dreams and their commitment to bring them to fruition. Young Rhett and Link promised to do something great together when they grew up and drinking a cloud is likely the symbolism of this struggle. They try a lot, in many different ways, but it's never exactly what they are looking for. In the end they are very happy they managed to do it, although the method they employed seemed very underwhelming and fake to me, which might be the point, I don't know. Of course this is a huge part of their relationship; achieving something great together. It's just that I did not find anything to mention beyond this, except of course for the very heavy deepthroating insinuations when they were drinking the fog.

Now to the important stuff, will the Fog Chasers song be released? SOON PLEASE???

We Chopped Down a Tree with a Peanut Butter Axe

To be honest with you I don't want to write about this episode because I don't want to watch it again. Not because it made me emotional but because watching the squirrel family again is equivalent to torture for me. I am sorry but I actually really disliked this episode. Fortunately, there is still not much to say here either. Or maybe I did not notice because I was impatient to be done with it....

The episode is largely a tribute to Ben and it offers this exposition they had also done in a very heartfelt Ear Biscuit episode. In Ben's memory they chose to chop down a tree in their state with a peanut butter axe made by their university; peanut butter because Ben died from testicular cancer and tree chopping because Ben thought it was fun.

The only thing I wonder is whether there is any meaning with what happens with the squirrel family and whether it is a side story not associated to Ben's life. I wonder this because Rhett and Link seem to have thought about it thoroughly; the tree would go down anyway, they will plant 1000 trees in its place, so it's all good. Even though they have thought this through, it turns out there will be victims due to their decision. A flying squirrel family, with a non-winged squirrel stepfather whose home is obviously going to be destroyed. Rhett and Link cause the dissolution of this family and this is what I find interesting. The kids eventually try to see the positive side: they are close to adulthood anyway, so they choose to leave home behind and start their own lives. The stepdad, the non-winged squirrel, literally opts to stay at home and die. The mother squirrel tries to change his mind but it's not like she's losing her mind about it to be honest and soon she goes too and leaves him behind. Who the stepfather squirrel stands for - if he stands for anyone in the first place - I cannot say. But I did find interesting this side theme of Rhett and Link's action basically leading to a family falling apart and everyone taking a separate path in life (or death).

One Story Masterlist here

#rhett and link #rhink #wonderhole #randl #r&l #rhett and link's wonderhole #mythical #it has always been one story #long text

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delopsia · 1 year ago

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Void | Bob x Rhett x Reader

✦°．• Void Masterpost Word Count: 8,400 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Villain/Dark!AU, prophetic visions, verbal altercations & mentions of physical altercations, a dash of magic, edging, unprotected sex, comfort, themes of betrayal, heavy usage of Outer Range's hole and the ore that comes with it. Brief Summary: You are the monsters they created, and they must suffer the consequences. But first, there are more important things that must be taken care of in the bedroom.

"Because it was your fucking job!"

"It was no one's job to be an experiment!" Robert's voice bellows over top of Maverick's. A reverberating noise that crawls up the walls and dances around your ears. An echo you'd be able to shake if not for the ice that has formed in your bones. Joints frozen with something akin to fear. Equally cold but...calmer.

At peace, even.

Chestnut shoes click across the tile, each foot perfectly timed, walking to an inaudible beat so smoothly that Bob's shoulders hardly bounce with his step. "I signed up to protect my country," his index finger jamming toward his chest. Once. "Phoenix signed up to protect her country." Twice.

So many people in this room, and yet Maverick is the only one speaking. His white-knuckled fist shakes as he raises his voice once more. Barking like a dog in a fight. "Phoenix agreed to fly the mission!"

Smoke smolders in the corner of your eye. Lurking up in the rafters. But all you can look between the open switchblade clutched in Bob's palm and his audience.

This isn't how this was supposed to go.

"She didn't agree to die." The walls shiver. You know this story. Yet this feels like the first time you've heard Bob utter it. "I didn't agree to lose four years of my life!"

No, no, no, this wasn't the plan.

As unfamiliar as you are with Bob's old coworkers—no, friends, you're almost certain that the one who reaches for Maverick's arm is Rooster. The only man you recall having a mustache. Certainly, the only one who has any grounds to stop him, but Maverick isn't hearing it. Shrugging Rooster's unwanted hand away, "We tried to help you, but—"

"You had me charged with desertion!" Bob's voice booms.

Time nearly stops.

Milliseconds ticking impossibly slow as that delicate blade flies out of his hand. Intricately carved steel dancing, catching in the light of the crystal chandelier as it twists across the room. A perfect dance that never loses her momentum, darting across a path with such precision that you wonder if it was practiced.

Until it strikes home in a picture frame.

Right between the eyes of a recently deceased Admiral.

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, the plaque reads. You don't recognize that name.

The room explodes into movement before you can reach your next thought. Maverick surging across the room. The screech of his voice masked by the yelling of nameless faces that bolt behind him. A leader of a charge. His outstretched fist vying to snap those delicate glasses in two.

Plumes of black smoke descend from above. Swift. Sweeping through the crowd with an ear-splitting howl. Gold twinkles in the air like pixie dust.

It solidifies. A vaguely human shape that strikes Maverick from behind. His muscles going taut. Falling into a full-body spasm as he falls. Face slamming flat against the tile. Blood pouring from his nose. Boots squeal as his companions skitter to a halt.

Smoke fades into fog. That vague shape now an undeniable form. Solid knee digging into the fragile space between Maverick's shoulder blades, the other, cowboy boot-clad foot firm against the ground.

"Easy, Rhett," you don't like that eerily calm tone in Bob's words.

By the looks of it, Rhett's not too fond of being called off so easily. His brows furrowed as he steps to his feet, spurs chiming as he finds his place on Bob's right side where his vision is the worst. The result of an out-of-date glasses prescription that can no longer fully correct that astigmatism of his.

"What is that?" Someone's stuttering, his feet tangling as he backs up. Blindly bumping into the shoulders of his colleagues in his effort to get away.

Rhett's head tilts, his dark eyes meeting yours, deep blue still clouded with the ore flooding his body. But he doesn't say a word. Silent as the wind on an eerily calm night.

It is not a word or a shout that shatters the silence. Nor is it the thundering of feet racing down the corridor, Naval security responding to a distress call.

No, it isn't that at all.

It's a sharp intake of air. Boots clomping against the floor as Robert stumbles backward. Heels of his palms clanking against his glasses. Groaning low in his throat as he doubles over, a guttural noise that is too loud to be in this room full of his opponent. His enemy. Streaks of black raise from his forearms, veins bulging with it.

Your shoes are ungluing from the floor. Knees cracking as you cross the room, out from your idle resting place by the door, fighting against better judgment as you shove between the bodies of nameless pilots and backseaters. Your outstretched arms reach for those shuddering shoulders. Not here. Not here. Not here.

But your hands are going through Bob's frame. Your body as opaque as water. A flickering presence that can hardly be seen by the naked eye. Why now? Why here? Of all times for your body to start slipping out of this timeline, why does it have to be when Bob's eyes are flooding with that telltale black? Frantic baby blue irises dart across your translucent face, helpless. Until they too have been taken over by darkness.

"Stay with me," Rhett's hands appear on your shoulders. A vague contact that grows as his hands darken, gold flickering through the air once more.

But that can wait. You're not going to slip out of this timeline that quickly. It's Bob who he should be focusing his efforts on. "You don't need to—"

"'s gonna be worse if you slip outta here entirely," Rhett's palms firmly squeeze your shoulders; has already gathered up every molecule of you from where it's been meandering between the folds of reality. "He'll come out of it."

Bob's shivering body bumps against yours, moving blindly, "hallway."

"What?" Your voice blending with Rhett's. Two voices, one question.

Bob's shivering mouth can hardly form another word, his weight settling against you, and the strain it puts on your knees has you fearing that you're the only thing holding him upright. "Hallway," he breathes, voice hardly audible, "the hallway. There's, there's, in the hallway—"

"Rhett!" That voice. You don't recognize it.

But Rhett does. Shoulders stiffening. Spinning on his heels so quickly that they squeak against the floor. The very first to lay eyes on the stocky frame stomping through those double doors, his face so red it could burst.

Royal Abbott.

"Rhett!" He barks once more. His clenched fist bears that same inky darkness that is spreading across Rhett's skin. And here, you'd thought he was the only member of his family born with this ability.

"Don't move," Rhett's voice is low. A borderline growl.

And he needn't say more because the room explodes into a plume of black smoke. Dancing out from his sides, swirling and twirling around your bodies, wrapping you and Bob in a misty blanket that swallows you up entirely. Plunged into a glittering darkness that puts the night sky to shame.

"We still haven't..." No, no, no, why is your voice dying in your throat? "The documents—Bobby."

His clammy cheek squishes against your temple, flimsy arms draping around your icy frame. "This isn't going to work," he mutters, words that only you can hear, "this isn't...not with Royal."

"What do you mean?" Your voice breaks, "We can't give up on this now!"

But it's far too late for a debate. Bob's fingers rise to his lips, a low whistle washing over the silence. A calm tone that doesn't match the frenzy it sends Rhett into. Across the room within the second. Darkness spreads everywhere he touches. Through the air. Across the walls. Voices yelp and shout as a dull hum grows into an ear-splitting whine—the distorted sound of a weathered gate being opened.

The floor beneath your feet is no more. But you don't feel the fall. It's as if the world ceases to exist, leaving you and Bob to float within a dark nothingness. Your legs tangle as you draw each other in, arms wrapping around torsos and heads burying into crooks of necks, desperately clinging to each other out of fear of drifting apart.

Gold flickers. A dusting of a presence that curls around your back, cold nose bumping into the back of your neck.

"Rhett?" You whisper, and despite feeling the rumble of your voice in your throat, you cannot hear your own words. Lost to the void.

The arms that coil around you are familiar, strong, and bearing scars you've traced more times than you can count. Hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused fingertips tracing letters into the sensitive skin of your belly.

I'm here.

Despite this vast nothingness, you've never felt less alone. Safely wrapped up in the arms of the only men your weary heart can trust, the only place where the world cannot flash its sharp teeth at you.

Your feet settle upon solid ground, soft carpet squishing beneath your shoes. Home once more. Where a nest of blankets sits in the corner of the couch, pictures in frames hang proudly on the wall, and an electric candle flickers next to the television.

Precisely as you left it.

"You didn't need to call me off," Rhett says, in a muttering fashion that sounds more like a rumble than anything else. "I could have handled it."

"And what if you couldn't?" Bobby's sharp voice echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Repeating over and over until it dies into crippling silence. A cruel sort of thing that is somehow louder than the words themselves.

His weight shifts from foot to foot. Rapidly blinking. "I'm sorry, I...." his bottom lip shivers, mouth opening and closing, fighting for words that do not exist. "I can't...I can't risk..."

But his knees give out before he can finish his sentence. Dropping so quickly that you hardly have time to dive for him. Weary arms catching his waist, too weak to do anything but slow his fall. Rhett's appearing on the other side, his face long since softened. Eyelashes fluttering a million miles a second.

Black bulges from the vein on Bob's forehead, your only indication of what has once again taken over his psyche. Jaw locked so tight it shakes. Sucking in air through his teeth. Falling into a full-bodied shiver.

You don't understand. How is it happening again? "Rhett—"

"I know," he's already got his hands on either side of Bob's head. Flecks of black emerge onto his skin, drawn from the mineral trapped in the very fibers of Robby's brain. Unruly and running rampant, forcing visions behind his eyelids and threatening to take over his very being.

You know that it's been growing. That the increase of this...this thing, whatever it is, has been eating away at him. A sort of eternal hell whose violent attacks keep his muscles tight and his eyes wide open for days on end. But you didn't realize that it's been this bad. Rhett's only removed some last Tuesday, and here he is again, two weeks earlier than usual.

Bob slackens. Free of whatever invisible strings have been pulling on him, and when his eyes open, they're themselves again. Not black with the time mineral, or a muddied mixture of it, just the baby blue that is as soft as he is.

"I can't lose you," he chokes, tone suddenly frail as he looks between you and Rhett, "Either of you." His shivering arms curl around the backs of your necks, drawing you both in.

And it's easy. Sitting here on your living room floor, burying your head in the crook of Bobby's neck, your arms tight around him. Rhett's wrapping around you two like a blanket, long curls of his hair tickling your cheek. A big pile of shivering flesh and bone that defies the will of fate herself. Souls from separate timelines, trespassing in the name of a four-letter word.

You could stay here forever. Pressing endless kisses to their cheeks, like you are now. Feeling the softness of Bob's skin and the coarseness that is Rhett's out-of-hand stubble.

"How did he find you?" Bob's speaking again, albeit not very loudly. A whisper punctuated by the reciprocal smooch on the tip of your nose. "I thought you were the only one who could control the mineral?"

Rhett's quiet, his head shaking. "I don't..." pausing to accept his honorary nose kiss, face scrunching and all, "I don't know."

You don't like that answer. Not one bit.

But there isn't anything you can do about it. Not right this second, at least. For now, you've got a bigger problem on your hands, particularly named Robert Floyd.

"Think y' can get up for us?" Rhett's asking, his fingers carding through the short strands of hair atop Bob's head. Perfectly kept, as if he's still got a strict Naval standard to adhere to. It's as if he has yet to find his individuality, even after all this time.

Weak, he nods.

It's easy getting him down the hallway and into the bedroom, where the curtains are still open, showcasing that grandiose view of the valley below, distant, snowcapped mountains, and twinkling stars above. As wild as a place can possibly get when you live so far up on this lonely little mountain.

Far too isolated, but it's the only place that can ensure you'll know when someone is coming.

"Need t' try gettin' the rest of that shit outta your head," Rhett mutters as the two of you guide Bobby to the corner of the bed, where he can't possibly miss the mattress.

Your head cocks to the side, confused, "didn't you just take some?"

"I mean, gettin' it all out," he says it like it's easy, some simple walk in the park, despite having never walked that path before.

Eyes darting to Bob's fallen face, you reach to run your fingers against the curve of his cheek. Some thoughtless little motion that has him nuzzling into your palm, desperate for the warmth of it against his skin. Not enough to soothe the wrinkles on his forehead, from the way his eyebrows furrow with thought, but it's a start.

You know what he's worrying about.

And you wish you didn't.

"I don't..." his head shakes back and forth, refusing to look up at you and Rhett like your gazes will burn him alive, "how do I...if I lose the visions..." His tongue too flimsy to get the words off, all but flailing in his mouth.

"What d' ya mean?" Rhett's taking the words right out of your mouth.

Frustrated, Bobby's head shakes back and forth, unintentionally pushing your hand away. "What if something happens?" His voice cracks. Suddenly frantic. "And I can't—and I can't protect you?"

On its own, your voice finally bursts through, "We'll find a better way." And you don't have a clue what that better way is, but there has to be one out there, right?

That sudden burst of hope shatters the moment Bob's glassy eyes flash up at you. Windows into his soul that must silently communicate his thoughts with you because, by the time his uneasy mouth opens, you've already heard what he has to say. "The visions are the only way I can keep you both safe."

...but is it worth the expense of his life? Being slowly and painfully consumed by an out-of-control substance in the name of protection?

Rhett's big, wavering hands reach out, no longer stained with midnight ink, as he takes hold of Bobby's wrist, guiding it up until knuckles brush against his scratchy cheek. You can't tell who it soothes more. "It's eatin' you alive," there's a hint of fragileness to Rhett's tone, "Please...just let me try."

Now your hand is being taken hold of, squeezed up against Rhett's chest, just above his thumping heart, alive as ever. His stubble tickling as he cranes his neck down to kiss your fingers.

"Okay," Bob lets go of a breath, and it's as if the weight of the world lifts off your shoulders. His mouth opens again, but his tongue fails to produce another word. Distracted by the way he's warily holding his arms out, a welcoming invitation that you can never deny.

Hugging him feels awkward in all of the right ways. Your cheek squished against Rhett's shoulder, half bent over as you struggle to squirm onto the bed. Three pairs of legs flailing, but your arms refusing to unwind from Bobby to help.

Four years ago, you'd hopefully believed that practice would end the bumping knees, sharp elbows, and clumsy limbs that don't quite go where they were intended. Unpracticed and out of sync with the two bodies sharing the room with you. And you're almost ashamed to admit that, if anything, it's gotten worse.

Almost.

Because now there's a confidence to the way you press kisses to Bobby's sensitive neck, and you're unafraid to meet Rhett's darkened eyes as you do it. You're familiar with each other. Can tell that the hand disappearing beneath your shirt belongs to a cowboy and the knee between your thighs is attached to a former aviator on the run from the police.

You've heard the story more times than you'd like to admit, but it still feels strange. That this gentle soul could be sentenced to five years in prison, all because he and his pilot were sent to fly through a time hole that didn't spit them out until four years later. As if being given a false funeral and losing a massive chunk of his life wasn't enough.

"I can see those gears turning in your head," Rhett's suddenly right next to your ear. Sends you jumping and knocking your forehead into Bob's jaw.

"Rhett!" You squeal, but it's too late. He's already laughing. So is Bob, for that matter. All at your weary heart's expense.

Soft kisses press to your skin. The work of two pairs of lips trailing across your cheeks, Robby's working his way to your mouth, Rhett on his way to your sensitive neck, teeth scraping against delicate flesh like a warning. What that could be, you're not sure because you're silenced before you can even begin to speak.

And you're downright melting into this familiar touch, noses bumping together, moving blindly. Your hands are roaming up Bob's chest, curling around the back of his neck, clinging as you swing your leg over his waist. Straddling him is so much easier.

Dully, you're aware that Rhett has stopped; can feel the way his hungry eyes eat up every movement. The way Bob's hands grip your waist, how you sigh and tilt your head, inhaling the sweetness of cologne that still clings to him. Drowning in the small, surprised grunt when you nip his bottom lip.

Thin, bitten lips part, welcoming you like a sweetheart who's been waiting for you to come home from a long day at work. Smiling and leaning up into you, his soft tongue twisting with yours in some lazy, practiced dance that makes your head spin. Breaking away only to gasp for a breath, then meeting again.

To your right, someone whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," you coo. Can already feel the way a pair of big blue eyes are drilling into you, no longer happy with just watching. But knowing what you're going to find doesn't make the pang in your chest hurt any less; Rhett's hands rest innocently in his lap, bottom lip jutted out just a smidge, eager to lean in and steal your kisses away from Bobby. "Did you feel left out?"

He hums, too content with this newfound attention to speak. Scratchy chin bumping against yours with every peck, four, five, six times, until he's been called down to steal from Bob, too.

It's times like these when you wonder how they look so similar without being related. The scruff of Rhett's jaw is a mere distraction from their matching noses. Bob's eyelashes are thinner, and his cheeks bear a dusting of freckles that Rhett only carries a sprinkling of on his back, but God, the blue gazes peering up at you are identical.

Until Bob's hips buck up against your ass.

Your gasp echoes, eyelashes fluttering, "Bobby!"

"I'm sorry," he grins, sheepish, "couldn't help myself."

But your knees are already digging into the mattress, grinding yourself back against him in such a way that you can feel his length twitch in his slacks. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you catch yourself wondering how many more times you will get to experience this. Your time is limited, cut even shorter by the furious hearts of men and women you don't know, vying to find a justice that will ultimately tear you apart.

To have Robert jailed in the name of setting an example that you cannot flee from the law.

To charge Rhett for framing his brother for his murder; who cares if he survived the attack? He lived, didn't he?

To return your weary soul to a place where friends are your closest enemies. bold enough to lock you out and leave you in the cold as some sick prank, refusing to speak your name to cover their hides.

Betrayal is a hideous thing; it doesn't start small; no, it shatters you into a million tiny pieces and asks how you could ever be so angry for what it did to you. Because you survived, and the sight of your soul bloodied and broken has made their warped heart feel a twinge of guilt. It demands forgiveness when you have none to hand out. It makes you question if you're allowed to feel these horrible things, anger and hurt, and something you can't quite name.

But these hands that roam your paper-thin skin, the delicate ones stroking your hips, and the strong ones roaming your arm...they have never made you feel so horribly. They have every reason to; they've been hurt, too, but the only thing they have ever done, from the moment they found you on the street, is love you.

"So, how's this fixing to go?" Bob asks after a long while, his head tilting as he looks up at you like he's trying to eavesdrop on the thoughts in your head.

You'd almost forgotten the ongoing plan to pull the mineral from his head.

Rhett hums, gingerly squeezing your wrist, "jus' keep doin' what you're doin'."

You needn't be told twice, thighs shivering as you scoot yourself downward. Far enough to feel the heated bulge between your legs, where you crave him the most. Don't quite recall when the heat in your core had sparked to life, but oh, does it burn brighter at Bob's groan.

The corner of Rhett's lip rises, transfixed by this show you're putting on.

Bobby's hips jerk up, pressing painfully close but so unfortunately separated by these layers of clothing. Why do pants have to exist? All they do is get in the damn way.

The two of you must have the same thought because you reach for each other's waistband simultaneously. Your practiced fingertips slide across the smooth leather of his belt, unfastening it while he thumbs at your button, yanking on the zipper. Rhett's boots thunk against the floor as he kicks them off, suddenly spurred into action at the sight of you two pulling the offending garments down your legs, underwear and all.

From the moment you're able to, you're back in his lap. Can barely think about the way that Rhett pulls your shirt over your head, too distracted by the soft glide of skin against skin. The glide of his cock against your folds, heavy and throbbing with the same need that has made you dizzy in the head.

"Ain't you two just a sight," Rhett whispers beneath his breath, never once tearing his gaze away.

"You can always join," you tease, delicate fingers reaching out to tap the tip of his nose if only to see it scrunch.

All it takes is one glance before Bob figures him out. "That devil's got a trick up his sleeve."

"Damn right, I do," now that he's moving, you regret opening your mouth. Because nothing good ever comes out of Rhett Abbott sidling up behind you, heavy cock resting against the curve of your ass, as he presses kisses to your naked shoulder. Gingerly working his way up your neck to that soft spot behind your ear.

Two of his fingers nudge at your lips, wordlessly asking for entrance that you happily grant. Tongue slipping between them, wrapping around each knuckle, lightly sucking on them in the same fashion you do his sensitive cock head. You know he recognizes it because he twitches against you, breath catching in his throat.

Bob's hands smooth up your naked thighs, the callouses of his palms catching on the sensitive insides of them, rough in the gentlest of ways. Knows what he's doing almost as well as you do, how to make you shiver and whine around Rhett's thick fingers, all from such a simple touch. He's yet to daringly reach where you crave him most, innocently roaming your body like it's a work of art.

You almost hate Rhett for drawing his hand away from your mouth, leaving it open and far too empty. But it's hard to be upset when he dips between your legs, dripping fingers dragging through your folts, across your aching clit, until he can lazily circle your entrance. Still aching from how they had their way with you in this morning, pushed to a limit you didn't know you had.

It's hard to tell who gasps louder when two fingers dip inside, your breaths intertwining into one.

"So tight already," Rhett murmurs, his voice darker than the midnight mineral flowing through his veins, "thought your poor lil' pussy would still be gapin' from us."

Bold, Bob's hand roams between your quivering legs, meeting where Rhett's fingers laz thrust into you. And you're certainly not expecting Bobby to push his finger in, too, but there are suddenly three within you. Curling to stroke at a sensitive bundle of nerves that Rhett has intentionally been avoiding.

"Soaking, too," Robby's eyelashes flutter at the way you jolt, his cock jumping against his belly. Flushed at the tip, heavy in your hand when you reach for him. You may not be able to reach Rhett right now, but you can play this game, too.

Your soft palm running up his heated skin, thumb swiping over the single beat of precum that has collected at his tip, not enough to wet him, but it makes him glisten all the same. Not quite the borderline faucet that Rhett is, making a downright mess on the back of your thigh.

Bob's other hand disappears beneath the pillow, fishing out the poorly hidden bottle of lubricant that certainly should not be hiding there. If you could see Rhett's face, you just know you'd find guilt written all over it.

For once, though, his inability to put things where he found them has made things easier. Don't have to quit stroking Bob's throbbing length as he pours the clear fluid until he's satisfied with the glide. Laziness enables more laziness.

"Do y' need more?" Rhett's fingers twitch in you, and the corners of your vision sparkle with a painting of the galaxy. Always seems to spasm after using those mythical abilities, briefly losing control of the unnamed ore that his body manufactures on its own accord.

At least he didn't make you see into the future this time.

"I think I'm alright," your tongue tingles in your mouth, difficult to move.

Their fingers pull away simultaneously, leaving you way, way too empty. But again, you've got the perfect remedy for that. Scooting up Bob's soft thighs and guiding him to meet your dripping sex, cock head kissing your loosened entrance. Their hands interlock on your hips, holding you steady; in the odd freak event, you slip up and take him all at once.

It's never happened, but they act like it happens every time.

If it has something to do with those visions, you're thankful you haven't witnessed it.

Just like how thankful you are for the gentle pressure of Bob's cock, his thick tip slipping inside for the second time today. Just big enough to make you weaken at the stretch, a whimper catching in your throat. Dragging against that bundle of nerves as he slips past, indirectly massaging against it.

Rhett's sinful hand dips between your legs once more, two fingers bracketing Bob's cock, feeling where it disappears inside.

The rain pattering against the window is the only thing you can hear; the three of you stunned into silence as you sink lower and lower on Bob's lap. Fighting to relax around him, pushed closer and closer to the border of too much when your skin finally meets with his. Flush against each other. Nothing left to take.

A shaky breath slips past your lips, heart pounding heavy in your chest. So, so full.

"You're shakin', baby," Rhett's breath tickles your naked shoulder, "needin' Robby that bad, hm?" And maybe that's why you're having such a hard time controlling yourself, shivering palms settling on Bob's sturdy chest, fighting to lift your body.

Only manage to lift yourself an inch or two before you're sinking back down, and barely able to match that when you repeat it. Exhausted muscles further weakened by the drag of his cock along your walls, rubbing right where you crave him. So good, but you can't fucking move, face wrinkling as your knees sink into the mattress, rising the smallest bit, only to fall back down onto him.

Bob's fingers swirl against your weary hips, "Having trouble?"

All you can do is nod.

Those hands rise, smoothing over your back. Only takes the slightest bit of pressure for him to draw you down into his chest. Laying against him as he digs his feet into the bed, searching for leverage.

And then he finds it, and he's thrusting up into you long and slow, and you might forget how to breathe altogether. Cheek squishing against his flushed collarbone, your eyes rolling as he does it again. Can only imagine what kind of view Rhett's got. It must be quite something because he's gone virtually silent. Watching in silent awe.

Maybe you'd be able to ask if you weren't rendered speechless by the way Bob drives up into you. Blunt tip rubbing right past those quivering nerves, punctuated by the soft smack of skin on skin, gradually quickening. Your hands are fluttering. Grabbing at the sheets. His hair. A little bit of both.

"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby," you catch yourself babbling. Don't know when your lips started moving or how to shut yourself up. It's too early to be falling apart. It's, it's...

"There you go," he's whispering in return, "does that feel good?"

Outside, thunder rumbles, the bedside lamp flickering as the wind begins to howl around the corners of the house. But you can't be brought to worry about potential power outages and how you'd clean up in the dark because Rhett's hands are smoothing up your thighs. Drawing your attention back to the way your swollen cunt spasms around Bob's length, the kind of thing that makes you shiver from head to toe.

"Talk t' him, darlin'," Rhett croons, absolutely entranced, his rough palms roaming up the soft skin of your back.

You don't even know what to say. Scrambling for words that you've forgotten the meaning of. But your fists are clenching around handfuls of the comforter as you push back against him, meeting thrust after thrust. Harder. Faster now. Bouncing your body with every soft smack.

"Come on," Bob rasps, and you've leaned back just enough to see the redness that's formed on his cheeks. He's lost his glasses, lying discarded near the pillows. Unfocused blue eyes peering down at you, eager to drink you in. "Talk to us, baby."

"Feels," choking on your words, eyes scrunching shut. Come on, come on, it's right on the tip of your tongue. "Feels good—!"

"Yeah?" That tone. Rhett's up to something, and you're too weak to look back and find out what. "Y' like it when y' get Robby's fat cock in your lil' pussy?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your head is starting to spin, cunt clenching needlessly at his words. Can feel yourself grow wetter, downright dripping around the thick length driving up into you. And there's nothing you can do but pant for a breath you can never catch, taking every inch.

Bob grumbles this loud noise that vibrates out of his chest and into yours, "Rhett—"

"Would be a shame if he..." Before Rhett can finish speaking, Bob is gasping, stuttering to a sudden halt, "stopped."

"Quit," Bob's shuddering breath cuts him short, "Quit rubbing my balls like that."

But Rhett isn't stopping. You can feel his thumb bumping into your skin with every feather-light spiral, massaging in this frustrating sort of way that makes Bob jerk up into you. Unable to do a damn thing about this torment without hurting himself. His hot breath hitting your forehead, flushed cock still throbbing deep inside of you.

"Shit, Rhett, that..." he pants, breathless, "that...'m gonna cum if you keep..."

"A'ight," and just like that, Rhett stops.

But he's not done.

No, now he's curling an arm around you. Gingerly guiding you to sit on your haunches, your heavy head falling back against his shoulder, still full of cock. Split wide and putting on a hell of a show for Bob's darkened gaze. Especially when Rhett dips down, his fingers slipping between your folds in favor of sliding across your clit.

"Rhett," you don't know what else to see. Repeating their names like an incantation, the voicings of a weary heart desperate for a promise of forever. The one thing that the world doesn't want you to have. So unfortunate that you crave it like a fallen angel craves the warmth of the heavens.

But Rhett's hands are just as warm. Burning fingertips spiraling effortlessly around that swollen bud. Has you clenching down around Bob's cock, squeezing him up against the frenzied nerves along your walls, crying high in your throat.

"Just like that," Helplessly grabbing at his meaty wrist, squeezing until you can feel iron bone pressing back against you, "Rhett, just like...just..."

Your tongue is starting to go limp in your mouth, and somewhere between the haze settling in your senses, you catch the way Bob's eyes roll back into his head. All from the involuntary massage of your pussy, desperately chasing the way Rhett's rubbing you. Heat pools in your lower belly, sending your skin prickling.

You're...you're...

Head lolling back against Rhett's shoulder, your eyelashes flutter closed. Heart hammering against your chest, feels like the entire room has begun to spin. Can't think of anything but the soft nudge of Rhett's jaw against your forehead and his soft whisper of your name.

"Cum for us, baby," he breathes, fingers working a little faster, "come on."

And you do.

Oh, you do.

With a cry that you cannot hear, the ringing in your ears growing into an all-encompassing hum as your orgasm washes over you. Pussy squeezing around Bob's cock, chest heaving as you gasp for air, head spinning off of your shoulders and up into the clouds above. And it's warm, and it's perfect, and for just a second, you think you might be able to see a bright light in the distance of your blackened future.

But then you're coming back down all too quickly, returning to your senses just as your weary cheek comes to rest against Bob's sweaty chest. His cock slipping out of you, still painfully hard and begging for attention.

Attention that Rhett's all too eager to give him, scooting closer, collecting their flushed lengths into one oversized hand. Stroking loosely at first. Spreading remnants of leftover lube and your wetness onto himself until every motion is punctuated by a sickly squelch. Knuckles bumping into the curve of your ass, the only indication you have that he's still moving.

Bob's arms coil around you, fingers kneading into your weary flesh, has to occupy himself with something. Breath fanning out against the top of your head, swallowing down a grunt you hardly catch. It's not what he wanted, but oh, is he not complaining, bucking up into Rhett's warm hand, jostling you in the process.

"Awfully quiet down there," it's hard to tell if Rhett's remark is directed toward you or Bobby, maybe both.

Bob's trying his best to talk, his head shaking back and forth, unintentionally grants you an excellent view of the vein in his neck, flexing with the motion. "It's hard to talk when you're—fuck, when you're..." his speech stumbles into a whine, and you can feel the way his belly twitches beneath you, "God, your hand."

You can't help but lean up and press your lips to that thin skin, gingerly sucking on the vein. And so what if your free hand reaches up, two fingers pinching a pale pink nipple?

"Ah—" He damn near jumps, body bucking up into yours, "Hey!"

It's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Now that he's made one loud noise, he can't close his mouth again. A melody of breathy moans that could make anyone fall to their knees. Backed by Rhett's guttural groan, bucking up into his own hand, the meaty head of his cock bumping into you.

"I'm..." Bob's panting, "close."

Rhett stops. Not another word or warning spoken, as his big hands curl around your hips, pulling you up onto your knees, ass up for him. You already know what's coming, but you're hardly prepared for the aching stretch of his cock pressing into you. The glide smoother than before, still stretched and open for him.

"Again?" You squeak, voice punched out of you by the smack of his balls against your oversensitive clit. Not ready for another cock to fuck into you just yet, but he's already moving. Short, jerky thrusts punctuated by the exhausted wetness of your pussy, sent into a spasm of flutters around him.

Below you, Bob grumbles, "You don't have to tease me for this to work."

"I know it," you can hear Rhett's wild grin distorting the corners of his words, "but it's more fun this way, ain't it?"

His cockiness is short-lived. Karma, you suppose. Because he's leaning down, his body caging yours. Rutting into you a little quicker as he buries his face in your shoulder, muffling those soft grunts until he's stuttering to a halt, cumming in you with a garbled cry. And you're just lucid enough to feel the twitching of his cock, the heat that fills the deepest parts of you, pumping you full until he has nothing left to give.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Teasing, you tilt your head to look back at him. Wasn't quite anticipating him to be leaning in for a kiss, but the shallow peck is a welcomed gift.

Rhett's quiet until he draws out of you, leaning back on his haunches to get a look at the mess he's made of your cunt. His cum already beginning to leak out, threatening to stain the sheets again if you aren't careful.

"Look so pretty when you're full of us," he muses aloud, and before you can open your mouth again, he's nudging into you again.

Or is that...no, that's Bobby, who's sinking into you. A shiver wracking down his spine as Rhett guides him back inside the absolute mess they've made of you. Cum and sweat, and lube coming together to create this sickly noise that makes you shudder.

"Am I hurtin' you?" Bob's gasping, the edges of a Texas-born accent audible, and you genuinely don't know what you would do if he always spoke like that because it's enough to make you bite back a moan.

"I'm alright," reassuring both yourself and him at the same time.

That's all he needs. Jerking up into you without abandon, arms squeezing you tight to his chest, anchoring you to his overheated body. The softest sounds drifting from his lips, punctuating his every shallow thrust. But just as quickly as he started, he's tipping over the edge, stalling to a halt with a noise you can only describe as strangled. Filling you once more until you don't think you can possibly let them between your legs for a minimum of forty-eight hours.

You've hardly got the strength to lift yourself off of him, collapsing to his left. They're leaking out of you, coating your thighs in a sticky mess that you have no hope of cleaning on your own. Not in this century.

By the looks of it, Bob might be able to join you for a nice, hundred-year nap. His half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling, hardly reacting to the two fingers you're walking across his chest.

But he reacts when Rhett's rough hand wraps around his spent length—jolting, wailing, as Rhett's empty hand rises to press against his forehead. Wicked thumb massaging over that flushed, weeping cock head, right where Bobby is most sensitive. Sends him into a full-bodied tremor.

"Sen—sensitive!" Tears roll down his flushed cheeks, speech devolving into something incoherent.

The hand on his forehead darkens. Drawing some nameless black ore from the depths of Robert's overworked brain. Cruel, how such a thing can be such a gift to one man and a curse to another, destroying and building up innocent bodies without rhyme or reason.

It runs out. That steady stream of midnight fading away in wriggling splotches until it's no more. And it still might not mean the end of those visions. There's no way to tell if there's more hidden somewhere in his body, or worse, it may have begun to manufacture itself like it does in Rhett. Running rampant for eternity.

But right now, there's no more, and Rhett's letting go of his abused length, and you're both leaning in to press kisses to his clammy cheeks, and it's the closest thing one can get to perfection. Your exhausted mind can hardly find the energy to return to what happened earlier.

A discussion for tomorrow.

"Are you okay?" You whisper somewhere around when he stops shaking. Calm at last.

He hums. The best that you're going to get.

And he's quiet like that for some time. Virtually silent, reduced to grunts and offhanded chuckles when you decide it's time to clean yourselves up before things start to dry in places they should not. Three pairs of legs stumble down the hall and into the bathroom; Rhett's arms are full of clothes, you're fumbling with the hot water, and Bob's simply glued to your side.

"Pink or purple?" Rhett chirps, and you don't need to look to know that he's reached under the sink and picked up a handful of bath bombs. He'd use them all at once if you'd let him.

Without a word, Bob points to the pink. Conveniently, it's also the bomb with a toy capsule hidden inside. A mystery that will surely join the small shelf of collected surprises above the towel rack.

Somewhere between the fizzing of the bomb and a sneeze that nearly sends Rhett falling into the bath, Bob grabs both of your hands. Toying with your fingers as if amused by their shape and varying sizes. How Rhett's hands are massive even compared to Bob's, and how soft yours are.

"Do you think you got it all out?" He asks after a long while. Breaking whatever silence had fallen over the room.

"Felt like I bled y' dry," Rhett hums, his foot kicking against yours, vying to start another water fight, "but there ain't no tellin' this early."

That doesn't seem to be the answer Bob was looking for. Hell, it certainly isn't the answer you want to hear, either, but what can you do other than wait?

A clear capsule rises to the surface, bouncing with its excitement to be seen and opened. A small yellow duck with a misprinted eye that has left one half of its head coated in black.

"Looks like someone turned Rhett into a duck," Bobby chirps, twisting the adorably shaped hunk of plastic in his fingers. And now that he says it out loud, it does look like Rhett when he uses his abilities. Whatever they're meant to be called.

The duck travels into the bedroom, one way or another. You find it sitting on your pillow, staring back at you with its singular eye like it's been employed to keep an eye on your whereabouts while Bob fusses with the security system. Motion detectors and alarms galore, monitoring every room and entry point that could possibly exist.

They act like there will come a day when someone breaks in, and you hope it's a measure fueled by worry rather than a vision detailing the worst.

But tonight isn't that night. No, just one of tangled legs and kisses pressed against sore skin and muscle and mumblings about plans of getting back into the Naval base. Get ahold of those documents that narrowly slipped through your fingers earlier. Copy and replace them before anyone is the wiser, keeping the originals as evidence of what happened. The only truth that can possibly force them all to acknowledge what they did to Bobby and his old pilot, Phoenix.

You wish you'd gotten the chance to know her before the hole took her life. Bob's recount of her always makes her seem like such a lovely woman.

"We can do it for you too, you know," he says, and you know he's directing it toward Rhett, because the evidence of the crime against you has already been collected.

The security footage of so-called friends locking you out in the cold, some grand plan to get back at you for forgetting to reserve the first cabin. A little "Oops, it's annoying to be forgotten, isn't it?" that left you stranded in the worst blizzard the state had seen in decades. Wandering through a perpetual blanket of white until a hole opened up beneath your feet and swallowed you up.

To think that they tried to cover up what happened to you, in the same fashion Rhett's family did to him, by pretending it never happened. Everyone in the house had simply forgotten the past twelve hours. No, we don't know what happened to them, officer; they just disappeared!

"I know," Rhett's cold nose nudges your shoulder; you'd almost forgotten that he curled up behind you, "wanna enjoy Perry in prison, a lil' longer."

Your fingers reach to run through Bob's damp hair; need something to do."Are you still showing up in the cell to scare him?"

"Absolutely."

The air is silent.

And then the three of you devolve into a giggle.

The drone of the city is one that swallows you up before you've even stepped foot into it. Flashing lights, squealing horns, and clashing of voices. People. Individuals with their own stories, purposes, and meanings in this world, crossing paths for the briefest moment, on their way to a better destination.

You are surrounded by more people than you can count, yet you might as well be invisible. A ghost that can be stepped through, only visible to a select few.

Rhett's hand squeezes yours, and it's the most solid you've felt in weeks. Maybe it's the kind of curse that applies to more than one. The three of you seemingly frozen in time as the world bustles about, never stopping for a second because the world does not stop for just anyone.

But it will soon.

God, you hope it stops on a fucking dime. Sends everyone reeling, a sucker punch flying in somewhere from behind. Rattles everything they've ever considered about themselves, the people around them, the higher power above, the world itself. Because America tells you that the only things worth knowing are those which can be known.

America is wrong.

You are worth knowing.

And you want them to hurt like Rhett did when his brother picked up his fists and beat him into the ground because how dare anyone make a simple comment about moving on. To feel the complete and utter betrayal to wake up to your father throwing you into the unknown, uncaring of how you plead for your life. Promises that you won't tell anyone what happened.

You want them to lose like Bob did when he and Phoenix were deceived. Convinced to climb into the backseat of that F/A-18, not knowing they were about to be sent through a hole that wasn't just some silly illusion. To be struck by an unknown substance that kills their best friend and forces them to suffer violent visions.

Return home after five years to find that you have been given a false funeral, your possessions no longer remain, and the Navy is accusing you of desertion. Any other way would force them to explain what happened, and a ruined life is worth the price of secrecy.

You want them to know what it's like to be betrayed by those they trust the most. Left for dead and not be given the grace of having their names plastered in the paper. Reduced to just another faceless person. A tragedy for one day, forgotten on the next.

Your eyes dart to the small phone in Bob's hand. It doesn't hurt to look at it anymore—no more bubblings of memories or invisible nippings of frostbite at your skin. It's just a cheap phone meant to do its job, and that is all.

Rhett looks to Bob.

Bob looks to you.

You look back at them.

Together, you smile. There's no going back from this, and that's okay. You are the monsters they created, after all. Bob's finger taps the crudely designed button on the phone.

Every screen in the city lights up with the same video.

Oh, what could have been.

#void au #rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #oneshot #smut

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casperghosty · 2 years ago

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#rhett & link #digging a hole #cuties #rhink #rhett x link #hand holding #why are they so cute #they have to shake the hands or it just looks like they're holding hands #they just wanna hold hands in the dessert

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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 1 year ago

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deep dark valley | rhett abbott x oc, time travel au

Summary: A year ago, Rebecca Abbott went missing. Now, Rhett is nowhere to be found. The Amelia County Sheriff's Department has put together a search party. One of the volunteers: Tessa Abernathy. But it takes more than searching on horseback for her to find him out in the west pasture. (wc: 3631)

Warnings: background ocs, 🕳 the hole 🕳, language, a bit of a cliffhanger and a flashforward

✎……To start off falltober on a slightly spooky note: the time travel au! I'm really liking how this story is going so far. Please let me know your thoughts and if you want me to continue this! I have so many thoughts and ideas!

✎……MAIN MASTERLIST || FALLTOBER MASTERLIST

Don’t go out in the fields at night, Where the black sky opens at your feet And swallows you whole A god with a sickle, tearing through time Don’t go out in the fields at night, You’ll disappear without a trace Not to be found, not to be home And come back later Not completely whole Don’t go out in the fields at night, Unless you want To risk your life

Rhett Abbott went missing three days ago. Sent out to check the fences on his family’s ranch on Wednesday and he never came back. The Abbotts thought he was just off doing what Rhett did — drinking or bedding some girl he didn’t know for a few days. So they didn’t call the police until he had been missing for a full forty-eight hours. Worry starting to settle in when they finally seemed to notice that his truck was still parked up by the barn just north of the house.

The sheriff put out a call that a search party should gather at the Abbott ranch at two o’clock after the missing person’s report was finalized and an initial investigation had been underway. Rhett was still out on Abbott land somewhere, of that much the police were certain. Possibly hurt. And he needed to be found fast before anything worse happened to him out there — the weather forecast showing his impending doom as a great storm cloud approached the region.

Tessa Abernathy, along with her father and mother, answered that call. Arriving at the Abbott ranch with their horses in tow to search the land as best they could.

Tessa couldn’t imagine what Royal and Cece must have been going through. It wasn’t even a year ago that their daughter-in-law Rebecca went missing on their land. Went out for a walk to cool off one night and never came back home. Her father, the cynic he sometimes was, said it was a little suspicious that another person just disappeared on their property. He wondered if they should just start digging instead of looking for that boy alive.

His wife and daughter both told him to stop talking like that. His defensive what? making them double down on their efforts.

“You went t’school with’im, didn’ya, Tess?” her mom asked as she peered into the back bench seat where her daughter sat with her knees scrunched up.

“Yeah,” she answered, unable to look at either of them as she turned her head to look out the window, watching the endless Wyoming landscape zoom past. “Graduated the same year. I — I hope he’s okay.”

“M’sure he’s fine. Jus’got a little lost s’all.”

“On’is own land? That don’t happen! Unless he’s drunk…”

“Nate! Will you quit!” her mom hissed, hitting her husband lightly on the arm with a pointed look back at Tessa.

It wasn’t like she was close to Rhett. She barely spoke two words to him in school and not a single one after graduation. Their friend groups didn’t mix and she stopped doing rodeo stuff. They might have lived in the same small town with not much to do, but the two of them just never seemed to cross paths. Still, a pit, an open maw that gnawed at her insides, had opened up in her gut when she heard the news that he was missing. It hadn’t gone away since and only worsened when they turned into the drive that branched off into the Tillerson and Abbott ranch entrances. The simple rought iron gate with that circled A looming over them like some omen she didn’t understand and didn’t want to.

What anguish the Abbotts must be experiencing, what worry. What tears had been shed. And what if Rhett was out there somewhere? Injured and alone. Hungry and cold. It made her guts twist up and her teeth sink into her bottom lip. Hand reflexivly curling around the bag she brought. Filled with a fresh bottle of water, food, and a first aid kit — just in case she found him. Just in case he needed it.

Tessa hadn’t prayed since she was a little girl and her parents still dragged her to church every Sunday. But she closed her eyes and spoke to the Lord then as their truck pulled up to the Abbott ranch house.

Please let him be out there. Let him be okay. Let someone, anyone, find him.

Her father killed the engine and they all climbed out of the truck. The sheriff and deputy were already there, standing on the Abbotts porch talking with Royal and Perry. Cece was out in the yard, talking to a few other women. There were about twenty people there already. All with their four-wheelers and gators and horses to aid them in their search of the expansive land. The sky was growing dark, greyed over in cloud, a wind blowing in from the east.

That storm was coming in faster than anyone expected.

When Cece noticed them, she wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself, and approached with a tight smile.

“Thank you f’r comin’,” she almost whispered as she wrapped Tessa’s mom up in a hug.

Her dad patted her on the back, all skeptism gone as he said, “‘Course. Can’t even imagine. Anythin’ else we c’n do t’help — jus’let us know.”

“I’ppreciate that,” Cece said as she pulled away from the embrace.

Then she caught sight of Tessa still standing by the truck, hands stuffed in her Carhartt pockets, trying to blend into the background. But there Cece was. Walking up to her with tears in her eyes and the wind blowing her brown hair across her wrinkled face.

“Thank you,” she said as she took Tessa by the shoulder firmly.

What do you say to someone who keeps losing family left and right? What do you say to a mother whose son is gone — and might be gone forever? Tessa surely didn’t know as words and phrases that all seemed cliche and insincere rolled and tumbled on her tongue until they all felt like a knotted mess in her throat. Clogging her up until all that came out was:

“N-No problem.”

That definitely wasn’t the right thing to say. But Cece didn’t seem to mind. She only smiled and gave her shoulder another squeeze. Then let go to talk to her parents some more. Tessa heaved a sigh of relief as she slipped away, turning on her heel to check on the horses in the trailer.

A few minutes past two, the sheriff rounded up the search party and gave designated zones of land for people to search. The Abernathys and the Brownings were going to search the west pasture until dark. The section of their land that Royal said Rhett was supposed to be checking the fences of — that butted up against Tillerson property.

None of the Abbotts’ neighbors showed up to help with the search. Not even Luke, who seemed to be the only one with his head on straight. But neither Royal or Cece seemed to mind. It was probably best that they stayed away, considering the two families' history of bickering and petty squabbling that Tessa only heard in gossip her parents liked to share around the kitchen table.

At the sheriff’s call for everyone to head out, Tessa mounted her horse.

Peaches stamped her feet and whinnied softly as Tessa settled into the saddle, a loose hold on the reigns. Her horse was excited to explore the new land, having not gotten off her own family’s ranch much since Tessa retired from barrel racing some years ago. With a click of her tongue and a light kick of her heel into Peaches’ side, they were off at a trot towards the west pasture.

No one spoke. Abernathys on their horses and Brownings on their four-wheelers. A heavy tension in the air that could nearly be touched. Nothing to fill the silence save for the high-pitched whine of the small engines and the distant sounds of thunder. Tessa looked to the east, one hand on her thigh as she guided Peaches forward. The clouds were still a few miles out, but they were dark as night, lightning already shooting out. The wind whipped at her face. It even smelled like a storm.

“Y’all go north from’ere! We’ll go south!” Mr. Browning shouted over the noise.

The three Abernathys nodded, and turned their horses to the north. Into pasture that seemed neverending. And after only a few minutes of riding together, they split off as well.

Tessa veered even more north, towards the treeline. The trees felt like a logical place for him to be. If he got injured and lost his horse, it would provide at least some cover from the elements. Her eyes darted this way and that, focused on the ground, never stopping for long, just enough to make sure there was no sign of Rhett. Picking over the land slowly. She hoped and prayed for the toe of a boot, a scrap of blue jean, or a flash of flannel amongst the dried leaves and ferns and long grasses. Hoped that she would recognize it if she did see it.

But so far, there was nothing.

Nothing but empty fields and silence and an incoming storm that would surely cut their search short.

Sighing, Tessa looked up from the ground for the first time in ages. Her parents and their horses were nowhere in sight. How long had she been looking? How far away were they? A knot formed in the pit of her stomach, her hands tightening around the reins as Peaches shifted anxiously. Tessa didn’t like being alone out here. With the grey and infinite sky, the unsettling howling of the wind, a missing person nowhere to be found.

Only a mile ahead, she could see the fence line, barbed wire and thick posts, that separated the Abbott land from the Tillersons. Hopefully, if she followed the fence line and headed south from there, she would run into her parents eventually. She guided Peaches in that direction and took off at a faster pace than she had been going previously, eyes still scanning the ground for any sign of Rhett despite her discomfort.

Suddenly, a hum filled the air. It sounded nearly mechanical — but also animalistic. Otherworldly, coming from a certain point but also coming from everywhere all at once. It made a shiver run up Tessa’s spine like a finger of ice as she turned her head towards what sounded like the source of the noise. Just a little further north. What appeared to be nothing.

But what if it was Rhett?

What if he had heard the same strange noise just before he disappeared?

Tessa pushed down her fears, wrestled them into a pit at the very center of her gut that sat heavy and insistent, as she got down from Peaches’ back. She wasn’t about to run off because she was scared. Rhett needed help, and this noise could lead her right to him. So she walked forward. Leaving Peaches behind.

The humming got louder the further she walked. And when she got to the source, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her veins felt frozen. Her lungs seized up, her chest heaving. And despite every instinct telling her to turn back, get back on her horse and run — she couldn’t move.

A horrible void was laid out before her. Large and gaping and utterly black. A dust floated and danced just on the surface. The hum was coming from deep within. Gentle and continuous. It was shaped like a perfectly circular hole in the ground. With no sign of a bottom at the end of it. Just great consuming blackness and swirling dust. Like the opposite of the sun, it seemed to sap what was left of the light trying to stream through the clouds. Casting the field in shadows that stretched and stretched to meet their maker at the center of it all. Even the noise of the wind and the coming storm and small creatures thriving in the tall grass ceased.

And the void, humming and consuming, called to her.

Her feet moved of their own accord, unable to resist as they carried her forward towards the hole.

Standing mere inches from it now, she could feel the pull of it. The tug that drew in the light and the shadows and the noise. It pulled at her gut. It wanted to take her as well. Another step forward, and she was at the edge. Like standing on a cliff.

Run, run, run — get away everything inside her screamed. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked deep into the void just past the tips of her boots. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the wind blew past her. All around her. But the hum of the inky blackness sang just for her. She felt herself leaning forward.

Then Peaches whinnied somewhere behind her. Tessa turned sharply — and suddenly she was falling back.

Infinite cold. Infinite darkness. Nothing and everything all at once. There was no ground beneath her and no sky above. Floating through a nothingness that cradled her on all sides with a hum. Because it wasn’t falling. Not quite. Tessa felt there would be no end to this. She would spend the rest of time and space surrounded by void. Consumed. Gone forever.

Just like Rebecca.

Just like Rhett.

Wait.

Grass.

Grass beneath her palm. She was touching grass. No longer falling down but crawling up. A desperation filled her to be free of the inky dark and cold, as she dug her fingers into the earth and pulled with all her strength. A gasp escaping past her lips as her head broke through the void and she was staring up into pale blue sky. Like she was finally breaking through the surface of water.

Then a hand wrapped around her wrist and tugged her up. Tessa cried out as she was yanked belly first onto the grass. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Like she had been holding her breath for too long. There was a ringing in her ears that wouldn’t stop. And the sun — the sun felt so bright after what felt like an eternity, an entire life age of the earth spent in darkness.

She was then rolled onto her back, a pressure and weight placed on her cheek. There was a muffled voice, like listening to someone through a wall. She tried to open her eyes; blinked against the harsh light of the sun. But quickly, the form of someone’s face was taking shape.

Rhett Abbott’s face.

“R-Rhe…?” she tried, but the sound of his name came out heavy on her tongue.

Blue eyes looked down at her with concern pulling his brows down over them. His chin and jaw were covered in a layer of scruff. And his hair…It seemed longer than in the picture the sheriff passed out. His face looked harder too. Like he had seen things he shouldn’t — or more than he should have.

“Hey, hey, c’you hear me? Y’r gonna be alright. We just gotta…” He trailed off as he looked away from her. Then his expression dropped. “No, no, no, no! Not again! Shit — fuck! Come on! Fuck!”

His face disappeared from her sight completely. The weight of what she could only assume was his hand falling away from her face.

She could look up at the sky without squinting at least. Pale blue. The color of early morning. Not a storm cloud in sight. How long was she…Gone? Where even were they?

The only way to find out is if she sat up and got her bearings. Even if all she really wanted to do was go to sleep and try and pretend this was all just some bad dream her friends would think was crazy. But this couldn’t have been a dream. The grass was damp beneath her, wetting her clothes and sending a chill over her skin. It poked into her bare hands. She could smell smoke and hay off in the distance. Those things didn’t happen in dreams.

So she pulled herself up into a sitting position with a groan, blinking hard to further adjust to the light.

Rhett was sitting beside her. Elbows over his knees with his head hung low against his chest. Her brow furrowed as she took in his attire. Brown pants and worn, dusty boots; suspenders and a white button up that looked too big for him. Not his usual style if she remembered him right — or remembered what century they were in for that matter.

“Wha —” she tried to ask, but her voice cracked. She coughed and tried again. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’ve been stuck’ere for six months,” Rhett grumbled, not even looking up at her as he spoke. “‘N’now y’r stuck too.”

“Rhett…Y’ve been missin’ for three days…?”

He finally turned his head to look at her, brows furrowed as he ticked his jaw to one side. “Guess that makes sense. Considerin’ when it fuckin’ spat us out.”

Drawing his hands over his face with a sigh, Tessa only became more confused. Besides the sudden change in weather, and maybe the sudden change in the time of day (and his clothes and the fact she just fell into a black hole and Rhett Abbott pulled her out of it), everything seemed normal. They even appeared to be in the same field as the one she found that hole in, which was gone now. No hum and no all-consuming darkness. But now that she looked around…There were more trees surrounding them than she remembered. And when did that hill rising to the east with the little log cabin sitting on top, get there?

“I don’understand…” she said with a slow shake of her head as she looked around.

“I don’understand much either. But what I do know s’that I fell n’a hole six months ago n’climbed out of it here — in this field. N’now y’re here. So, same thing must’a happened t’you,” he replied, blunt and bitter.

“I — yeah. I-I guess so. I’s out on y’r family’s land…Lookin’ for ya.” His head jerked over to look at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “Didn’know I’d have t’fall n’a black hole n’order t’find ya, though.”

A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, but then he looked away again with a shake of his head. “M’sorry. This…Shit…It ain’t gonna be easy.”

“What?” she asked, a sudden and acute fear gripping at her heart.

“That hole didn’jus’ spit us out n’a different place. It spat us out n’a different time.”

Grass beneath her palm. She was touching grass. No longer falling down but crawling up. A desperation filled her to be free of the inky dark and cold, as she dug her fingers into the earth and pulled with all her strength. Which she knew there wasn’t much left of. A gasp escaped past her lips as her head broke through the void and she was staring up into brilliant blue sky. Like she was finally breaking through the surface of water.

Her other hand found purchase in the dirt and she pulled. With a cry and a soft groan, she landed belly fist onto the grass. Gasping for breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire, she rolled over onto her back.

At least the sky felt familiar. At least her body didn’t ache like she thought it would. Like it did before she jumped. She did wonder though, as she laid there trying to adjust, how she was going to get up from the ground. She was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten down in the dirt for twenty-odd years.

Distantly, like from a different room of the house, she heard a groan and a thud as another body crawled out of the black void. She felt his presence at her side, like he was always supposed to be, solid and warm. Tessa smiled.

Good. He made it too.

She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes.

What she saw was not what she expected.

It was a picture of herself. Young and beautiful. The glass protecting it stained from rain and sun, leaned up against a lone fence post. The large picture was surrounded by smaller ones. Wilted flowers. Crosses. Teddy bears. Wreaths. And candles long burnt out. Tessa craned her neck to see what else was there. On another fence post was a picture of Rhett. Handsome as the day he pulled her out of that hole with his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t have as many things surrounding his picture, but still, there were flowers and candles and a few belt buckles strewn around.

No. It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t spit them back out right where they left off.

Would it?

Tessa turned her head towards where Rhett lay beside her and her chest heaved. Her heart raced in her chest. Her limbs felt heavy.

Handsome as the day he pulled her out of that hole. Unburdended by time and years upon years of hard work. Strong and lean. Before she even knew she was moving, Tessa rolled over onto her side and leaned against his chest. She took his smooth face between her hands, hands ungnarled with no wrinkles in sight, as a shaky breath escaped her.

Rhett opened his eyes, blue and dark as an oncoming storm. Blinked against the harsh light after infinite darkness. And then widened at the sight of her.

“Sunshine?” he whispered, fingers curling around her waist.

She smiled down at him, tears stinging her eyes. “This ain’t gonna be easy.”

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#oc: tessa abernathy #fic: deep dark valley #fd: outer range #time travel au #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #outer range #outer range fic #outer range imagine #outer range oc #new fic #rhett abbott x tessa abernathy #lewis pullman #falltober23

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