#the older one of him fresh-faced on the farm and scrawny

[the-oc-king]

So, the last time I was this excited about SV, everyone was posting about their farmers and I tried drawing my guy Fig to share - but I was a little fool who wasn't very good at art at the time. So now that I'm better at it and playing the game again, I figured it's time to give him some better art

Sorry to everyone in town who wanted to shoot their shot with the new farmer, he's too busy hanging out with the monster in the sewers

[qyllenhaal]

American Pie

Lee Bodecker x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: The Summer heat gets to everyone, including Sheriff Lee Bodecker who is looking to stir up with his favorite girl.

Warnings: 18+ only!!! DubCon (!!!), Dark themes, age gap (reader is early 20s), infidelity, alcohol abuse, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, spanking.

A/N: I didn’t expect to finish this in one night, but I did! I may have missed a few things to include in the warnings but I believe I got all the major ones. Enjoy!

Hot weather makes people feel more rowdy, like they can do anything just because the temperature is rising and the sun is out for longer. When the number of troublemakers at the bar goes up, so does the number of visits from the police.

Someone was always anonymously calling the police because someone at Tecumseh Lounge was stirring up some shit. They rarely came and when they did they did nothing. The deputy they dispatched would just write down a few things in a notepad and leave. No one ever truly got in trouble and that's because the Sheriff is rumored to be "in'' with the owner.

The rumors are true but the nice ladies and gentlemen from the nicer parts of the county will never see it for themselves. Tecumseh is rough, and nasty. There were more vices here than just alcohol, and most of it was done under the table.

Y/n was crazy to take this job as a bartender at Tecumseh. She didn't know that a hidden prospective for the job was fucking the patrons. One of the other girls working here did it, and so did Sandy despite her brother being the sheriff. Y/n was not interested in the advances pressed on her by the men. They were either married or been fucking "ladies of the night" for years and probably have something. No one who frequented a place like Tecumseh wasn't someone Y/n wanted to go home with. Yet she let Sandy's brother talk to her in any kind of way.

For someone who was the sheriff, Lee Bodecker was here a lot and it wasn't because the drinks were good. Sometimes his sister served him while he interrogated her about her husband Carl. Y/n had seen Carl a few times and she found him to be sleazy. Poor Sandy was stuck working behind the bar while Carl flirted with a younger girl just a few feet away from her. But Sandy would also take some patrons out to the back and get fucked when her shift ended. It seems like an even deal, but the difference is Carl looks happy doing it and Sandy always comes back looking a mess, and not in a good way.

Y/n has been applying for a waitressing job closer to her house. She wants out of this place yet whenever she says Tecumseh is her current place of work, her application gets thrown out. Her aunt got her the job and she wished to god that woman never did. She should've gone and worked at someone's farm doing hard labor instead of accepting the offer to work. She was talked to like she was a whore and there was nothing to do about it because her boss did the same thing.

Friday night shifts are the hardest for her. The men drink harder because they don't work weekends. The influence of alcohol made them relentless when talking to Y/n. They made what they believed were compliments about her body and proclaimed how they wanted to fuck her. She just had to press a smile because the more they found her fuckable the more they tipped her. The low-cut top she wore was not coincidental. While she didn't fuck patrons for 20 dollars, she did put out for their attention.

Not even 30 minutes before her shift and a fight breaks out. She has to call the police because the fight between two men turned into a fight of three, four, and then five. No one looked interested in breaking up the fight, just watching with glib smiles and jovial laughs. This was the kind of entertainment they came for, but it was a pain to deal with as a barmaid.

Police sirens and the lights made some patrons, including two of the people involved in the fight, went running out through another exit. Their fears were pointless since it was rare for anyone to get arrested here.

"Alright break it up," Deputy Brooks' voice boomed.

Whenever an officer was called to come down to Tecumseh Lounge, it was only three policemen who showed up: Deputy Brooks, Deputy McConnell, and the sheriff. They must've worked out some kind of deal with her boss because they come in, don't do shit about the reason they were called for, and they never failed to ask for a drink before leaving. Tonight is no different; they just break up the fight and tell the men to leave but they never force perpetrators to leave.

The fight dissipated a few minutes after the deputies showed up and the patrons grumbled because the fun was over. The two deputies looked around the place to give off the appearance of holding authority then they made their way over to the bar.

"One of your coldest beers," Deputy Brooks didn't greet Y/n nor was he polite. He just demanded what he wanted.

"No free drinks." She tries to keep her tone of voice strong. She is not afraid of these two men who only feel powerful because they have a badge on them. Deputy McConnell was only a few years older than her and she remembers when he was a scrawny kid who got picked on even as a senior in high school.

"We just broke up a fight at your fine establishment. The least you can do is give us a beer," Brooks rebuttal.

There was no arguing so Y/n sighed and went to grab two beers for the men so they could just get out of her sight.

"I need two beers. Not just one," McConnell interjected. Y/n didn't like how they drank on the job, especially since they were going to be driving so late at night.

But Y/n obliges just to get them out of her face. She hates the smug look on Deputy Brooks face as he grabs his beer and walks out with the other deputy behind him.

The rest of the night is Jenny's problem because Y/n was clocking out immediately. She smelled like cigarettes and just wanted to wash the layer of sweat off of her body. All the money her boss accrues from shady dealings, he was too cheap to install an air conditioner. People get angry and agitated when it's so hot out. Even at night the air feels sticky and falls just to the low 80s.

She headed out the back to avoid the incoming patrons. She is fair game to some people now that she is single.

Out back she can hear three unmistakable voices. Deputy Brooks and McConnell were standing by their car that was parked right next to the nice, clean sheriff's car. Y/n is not in the mood to deal with the two dickheads and their boss sheriff dickhead, but she knows they are going to say something to her as she walks back.

"Well if it isn't my pretty, pretty Cherry."

Lee Bodecker's voice punctuated the night air, making even the humid atmosphere feel cold.

Y/n stops in her tracks, knowing that she cannot avoid this without causing trouble for herself.

"Don't call me that."

"You sure like the name last week when I had my head between those thighs. 'Lee...oh Lee!" He imitated her voice which made his deputies laugh. Lee has a beer in his hand, reminding Y/n that McConnell asked for two back at the bar. She should've known it was for Lee.

She was embarrassed by him talking about their time together in front of his subordinates. Lee is married and Y/n is turned off by men with gold bands on their ring finger who try to take her home after her shift ends. However they have fucked on multiple occasions, making him the only patron she has given into. He was mean, but authoritative. Y/n couldn't help herself and she sometimes let the sheriff rough her up in the back of his car.

"I'm only messing with you sweetheart. You don't gotta stand there lookin like you saw a ghost."

Y/n feels humiliated but Lee doesn't seem to care. Lee gets off on seeing her squirm, on seeing her be degraded. She's not a whore like the other woman who works here and his sister, but he fucks her like she is. He has something many of the men inside the dingy joint wanted. Y/n isn't easy, which rare for a female Tecumseh worker.

"I'm just wonderin if you seen my Sandy," he made an attempt to change the subject.

"She's your sister Lee."

The truth is Y/n hasn't seen Sandy in a week. She said something about her and Carl taking a trip but she didn't say for how long. Y/n is not too fond of Sandy to pry into her life. She feels bad for her though. She always comes into work with dingy hair and not to mention the amount of weight she has lost which makes her face look gaunt.

"You better address me as ‘sheriff��� girl. You have no manners. You weren't even going to say hello to the men who keep you safe."

Lee did nothing to make her feel safe. He made Y/n feel on edge when he was around but downright euphoric when she was in the throes of passing in the back of his car. He was just using her to get his rocks off and he only went after her because he wanted someone "fresh" for him. He doesn't respect her or care for her.

"Shouldn't you three be patrolling? Looking for crime?"

"Don't catch an attitude, Y/n. It's none of your business what we do. Besides, all the crime is in that building you just came out of."

"You guys never do shit. All you do sheriff is come and collect money from Leroy-"

"Watch your fucking mouth."

Y/n is not sure why she's still here trying to bump heads with him. She will never win, especially when he is the authority around here. No one challenged Lee because they were scared to death of him. He's a shady sheriff but he's feared.

"I'm leaving," Y/n sighed. She tried to walk away but Lee stood up from leaning on his car and grabbed her arm

"Uh-uh," he shook his head at her as the grip on her arm tightened. She looked up at him with fear in her arms and he felt his cock getting hard "You don't get to leave until I tell you too. I think you owe me for last week anyway, cherry."

"Please...just let me go," she tried to plead. She tried to plea to the man who she's been fucking, hoping that his attachment to her would make him be kinder to her.

"You need your ass to be put in place. I thought I did that a few weeks ago when I spanked your ass until you cried, but you're still as defiant as ever. You'll never fucking learn."

Lee dragged her back to his car and bent her over the hood. He placed her arms behind her back and cuffed her. He wasn't going to arrest her but making her believe he was sure was fun to him.

She can see both of the deputies watching her. Her face was planted against the top of his car as he held her down. Lee pulls her dress over her ass and she feels so exposed.

"Those panties look damp to me. What do y'all think?"

Y/n hears the deputies chattering lowly amongst themselves, probably afraid to say something obscene about the woman the sheriff is hooking up with.

"How many men seen you like this before? Who you let fuck you today?"

"No one sheriff."

"That's right. That pussy is mine."

His rough hand caresses her ass. He wants to spank her for talking back to him in front of the two younger officers. She was trying to embarrass him which called for a punishment.

"You better count 'em or I'll start over."

Y/n just groaned in anticipation of the first blow to her ass. She hates how Lee takes his time and she wishes he would just get it over with. Her heart is racing as Lee gets a firm grip on her hair.

"Bad little girls get their asses spanked. Don't think just because you're not peddling your cunt that you're not a whore," he threatened with anger.

Her panties were ripped off with rage and she was truly exposed. The warm, summer breeze ghosted across her cunt but it made her shiver. She can already feel the heaviness of her hand on her ass before it even comes down. The first smack was so loud that it pierced the dark night's air. Her cry was even louder.

"One," she says breathlessly. Her eyes close so she doesn't have to look at the two men staring at her with wide eyes and tents in their pants.

Lee believes pain is the best discipline for a girl like Y/n. He would never do this to his wife, but he also doesn't fuck his wife like he fucks Y/n. She was a tough thing to crack but she rides him into the night until his car is shaking and he's cumming into a condom.

"You can count louder than that, cherry."

He was mocking her only because they had an audience. The belittling and having her body exposed was humiliating. But that first slap of her ass sent all the blood in her body rushing to pussy.

Lee smacked her ass again and again and each time she pathetically sobbed out the number of hits her ass has received so far. Her skin felt hot and it wasn't because of the temperature. She wanted to cry so bad but she kept it. She has never cried in front of Lee and she isn't going to start now; no matter how painful his brutality is.

"Look how fucking wet she is from getting her ass whooped."

Y/n heard the shuffling of the deputies and there was not doubt they were looking at her glistening sex. She felt like she was dripping and she wanted to press her thighs together so bad to hide herself. That would only make things worse for her and the last thing she needs is a harsher punishment.

"Learned your lesson, cherry?"

She nods, her eyes still closed.

"Good girl."

The sound of Lee's belt coming undone makes her stick her ass higher into the air. She's been trained like a dog who wants a treat to behave this way. A sense of shame consumes her as she acts so shamelessly.

"My good little bitch," he coos. He pulls himself out and lines up the head with her wet slit. "I don't have a condom on me sweetheart. I finally get to feel that pussy of yours."

He was lying. He always kept a pack of condoms in the glove compartment of his patrol car because he couldn't bring them into his home. Plus having them in there would always leave him ready to fuck Y/n. He did not like the feeling of condoms but he can't knock her up when next year is an election year. Having a bastard child with a barmaid from Tecumseh would fuck everything up and send his efforts down the drain.

"Lee no! You have to use a condom."

"I don't have to do anything."

She's stupid to think he would listen to her. She is completely powerless and can only operate to his whims.

"Then please pull out...please," she whispers in defeat. The laugh he lets out tells her that she doesn't get a say in this at all.

Lee pushes on her back with one hand and the other is holding onto her hip. He finally sinks into her and he is in paradise.

"You expect me to pull out when your cunt is this warm and tight? No fucking chance darlin'"

He starts to fuck into her, each thrust earning him a pathetic moan. She feels so good wrapped around him and he vows to never wear condoms with her again. She's the tightest thing he's had in years and he has to go slowly to brace himself or else he is gonna cum. This position gave him so much access to her cunt and he pushed in as deep as he could. His bare head was kissing her cervix over and over again. His thighs slapped against her bare ass and the noise reverberated into the night.

The deputies just stood there; eyes wide with shock but lust filling their veins. They never took Lee as a cheater yet he fucked Y/n he knew her body so well.

Tears slip down her face, but they aren't from sadness or anger. She's overwhelmed by the pleasure Lee is giving her that she can almost forget that they have an audience.

Lee lifted her head off of the hood of the car. She could see them in the reflection. She looked a mess while Lee looked like he was in heaven in her bare cunt.

"You wanna tell them how you never had a man in your ass until I fucked you? Begged for it like a whore?"

His voice has some much grit in it and Y/n wondered where this new fire in him came from. Lee was rough with her but never has he pounded into her like she was just a toy. Most would be surprised to know that Lee can be a gentle lover that had a primal urge to be inside of Y/n. She wondered if he was like that with his wife, but according to him she was just a "wet blanket." Y/n does not know whether or not to believe him because it's not uncommon for men to disparage their wives to women they're having sex with on the side.

"Gonna cum Lee," she cried.

He felt her tighten around him and he was about to cum too. He was going to cum inside of her.

"Show 'em how you cum for me. Let 'em see that pretty face of yours."

Lee pounded into her until she was crying out. Her orgasm wrecked her body and the only thing on her mind was Lee and his cock. If she was asked to speak right now it would just be babble. He fucked her stupid and he's not going to stop until he spills inside of her.

A few more hard, rough thrusts and Y/n feels Lee spill inside of her. She sighs at the blissful sensation. His grip on her loosens, a symptom of the exhaustion that starts to set in. His cock begins to soften inside of her but the two of them are still panting from what they just did.

"Go on. Go home," he slaps her ass one last time just to tease her. His eyes are trained on the sight of his cum oozing out of her and he never wants to look at anything else. But he has a shift to get back to

Y/n reluctantly stands up, her dress falling over her ass to cover her up. She can feel his cum running down her thigh but she's too embarrassed to clean herself up in front of these mean. She accidentally catches Deputy McConnell's eyes before she scurries off to her car. She hears a laugh and then a few more joining in. She's sure Lee is bragging to them about her always being willing to fuck him. She just hopes he doesn't tell them everything they have done together.

-

Lee had been silent for more than a week now. No calls, no visits to the bar, and even his patrol car hadn't ridden down her street. Y/n felt insecure about his absence; like he thought she was an easy slut like the rest of the barmaids. He knows she isn't willing to fuck anybody, but she was not sure if he believed her when she said it.

The days moved so slowly as she watched the door hoping he would come in one late night. She even hoped for a fight but suddenly no one had the energy anymore for a melee.

Y/n was working a late shift tonight. She'd cover the bar from 12 until last call. It was her day off but she had to fill in for some girl at the last minute. If it had been the weekend she would've said no, but it's a Tuesday night which means it would be an easy night of minimal work.

Y/n was wiping down glasses not five minutes after she clocked in and she heard the shrill voice of her co-worker Sydney.

"I'm not dealing with him. Last time I tried to cut him off he threatened to arrest me! I don't know where Sandy is but she needs to be the one here to deal with her brother."

Y/n's ears perked up. She didn't notice Lee in the room when she walked in. The room was dim and it was not always easy to make out customers, especially if they were far away.

"What's going on?"

Y/n walked over to where Cindy's voice was coming from and she was talking to their boss Leroy.

"Sheriff is drunk off his ass and I'm supposed to deal with him. My shift ended five minutes ago and once I'm off the clock then anything that happens in this place is none of my concern!" She said with contempt.

"You work for me. You don't get to decide what you will and will not do at my bar!"

As much as Y/n wanted to avoid a tiff between her co-worker and boss, she wanted to talk to Lee even more.

"I'll take care of it."

Leroy didn't care either way. As long as he didn't have to deal with Lee who was pissed off at him about something. Lee often complained that her boss was a "useless fucker." Leroy walked away from the two and Cindy gave Y/n a small smile.

"Thank you."

"It's no problem. I'll see you tomorrow Cindy," Y/n called to the blonde who was already peeling out of the place. She doesn't think Cindy likes her all that much but she was at least courteous to Y/n.

The bar was dead enough for Y/n's other co-worker to cover while she went to deal with Lee.

He was at a table in one of the corners of the bar; slumped over in his chair and too intoxicated to speak in complete sentences. There was no way he could properly function or drive home. She had a choice to make whether to leave Lee like this or take him home. She had just gotten to work, but the night was nothing that her co-worker couldn't handle. If Leroy threw a fit and tried to fire her she could just get Lee to threaten him.

He was so heavy as he leaned on her to walk to her car. Y/n loathes this man yet she does so many caring things for him that it makes her stomach hurt. She gets nothing out of this exchange yet she continues to go back with him.

She placed him in the passenger seat of her car and he just mumbled to himself the entire ride to her apartment. She was thankful to be on the first floor because it would be a hazard to try to get Lee to walk up some stairs like this. She helped him sit on her raggedy couch. He looked like he was going to vomit.

"How many drinks did you have?" She began her interrogation on him, but she doubts she will get a coherent answer tonight.

"Just one."

As he spoke he reached into his pocket to show her the "one" bottle that he drank from tonight. A few candy wrappers fell out of his pocket when he pulled the bottle out. They were jolly ranchers wrappers which was the kind she bought to share with him.

"What happened? Why did you get so fucked up? I need to get you home Lee."

Y/n was in panic mode. There was no way she could take Lee home but she didn't know how to deal with him like this. He had been tipsy around her before, sure, but she has never seen him this drunk.

"No, no...don't wanna go back. Just let me sleep it off," he slurred. He haphazardly kicked his shoes off and pulled his jacket off so he could get comfortable on her couch. He's going to wake up with a sore back if he sleeps on that thing.

"You can't get drunk like this ever again. And you also can't stay the night here ever again. Your wife is going to find out one day

He just groaned and turned away from her on the couch. She just sighed in defeat. She will deal with him in the morning.

-

She feels the bed around 3 am. She could not sleep after leaving Lee in a state like that on her couch and she has been up ever since. Y/n was so tired but her body was not agreeing with sleep at the moment. Heavy arms wrapped around her as she held her breath.

"You smell so good, Florence. Just like roses."

"Lee, it's me." She waited for him to respond, afraid that he would get upset or angry with her for no good reason. Her ego was a little hurt after he mistook her for his wife.

"I'm just jokin' with you cherry." Even though he was suffering from a hangover, he still has the capacity to tease her.

Y/n turned around to face him but he had his eyes closed and a pleased smile on his face. She can't deny how handsome he looks, especially with his full cheeks.

"Why did you get that drunk last night?"

"I'm a grown man."

"You weren't acting like it last night. You were like a defiant child," her voice began to rise in volume and Lee winced.

"Don't yell, please. You can be mad at me all you want but please don't yell. I've got a headache that's going to last for days."

"It's what you deserve."

Lee finally opened his eyes just so he could see that pouty look on her face. Y/n called him a defiant child, but she was one to talk. She was always acting like a brat around him.

"You don't mean that girl. If you did, you would've left me at Tecumseh. You care about me."

"Lee-"

"Just admit it. You care."

"Lee, you are married."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

This was the uncomfortable conversation Y/n wanted to have. It was always shot down by Lee. He had no problem fucking her, but talking about where they stand or his cheating was always a problem.

"Cherry, I wish you'd just let things be as they are. Wish you would always be a good girl like you are in the back of my cruiser."

"I don't want to be your mistress Lee. If we keep doing this then we're going to get caught and your wife will leave you. Then what?"

"I'll move you in and put a ringer on your finger. Maybe give you a few kids too," he chuckled.

Y/n couldn't bring herself to find joy in his comments. She has some underlying feelings for him and he's right, she does care. But her conscience can't stop thinking about the fact that he has a wife. The only time she forgets is when his dick is inside of her.

"I'm a whore, remember?"

"Just because I fucked you like one in front of my deputies doesn't mean you are one," his hand rested on her hot cheek and he stroked it with his thumb, "you're my cherry girl. The only person I love being inside of. You act like you hate me but you're always wet for me; I bet you're wet right now. I love what we have and I don't want it to end."

She has no more to say to him. She just sighs and closes her eyes. Lee can practically see the wheels turning in her head. While he saw this as a very simple situation, she viewed it as more complex and always seemed to look for ways to make it complicated for the two to just enjoy it for what it is. Y/n is young and Lee is sure she is not ready to settle down yet. They're just having some fun. And if they do in fact get caught and his wife leaves him, then his cherry would make one hell of a wife.

[merakiaes]

A Choice - John Shelby

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: #4 from the angst-list. 

Warnings/notes: Angsty! This is a combination of this request and another I got for the prompt #4 a few weeks ago but can’t find for some reason😅 This is the first part in the two-part series. Link to the second part below!

Wordcount: 2884

Summary: You get fed up with having to worry for John’s safety and life every day and give him a choice; you, or the Peaky Blinders. 

Part Two - A Second Chance

You had first met John Shelby when you were both eighteen, a year before the war struck. You had been a nurse in training at the time, walking home from work one dark September afternoon when you had found yourself thrown into a brawl on the street, right outside your house.

It was your brother, older than you by five years, who had managed to piss off the Shelby boys and started a fight, and as the more mature sibling, you had been the one who was forced to step in and interfere.

Seeing as your street was a good fifteen-minute walk away from Watery Lane, you invited all three of the Shelby boys inside despite your brother’s strong and rather loud protests, sending your brother’s friends home to their own homes.

Once inside, you had cleaned them all up, apologized on behalf of your brother who had turned out to have made a nasty comment about their father, and stuck together with them from then on forward. More specifically, you stuck by John.

Being the same age, the two of you instantly clicked, and as John had been the first one out of the three of them to fall victim to your brother’s scrawny fists, he had jumped at the opportunity to get under his skin by flirting with you right under his nose.

Already then, he had been a cheeky boy.

And that ever changed.

From that day forward, the two of you started seeing each other every day, and you quickly built up a relationship that was far too complicated to call a simple friendship.

You loved each other already from early at the start, but when the war struck and John finally gathered the courage to ask for your hand in marriage, you couldn’t say yes. It wasn’t the right time.

You couldn’t accept his proposal when he was just about to be shipped off to fight for his country and put his life on the risk. 

You knew it probably wouldn’t have made any difference in you had agreed, seeing as you already loved him, but for some reason, you felt it would be harder to get over him, if he were to get killed if you were engaged.

So you turned him down, with the promise that you would happily take his name and give him your all when he returned, giving him something worth fighting for.

You saw him, his brothers, Freddie, Danny, Jeremiah and your own brother off at the train station that would be taking them out of Birmingham, alongside Polly, Ada and little Finn.

By the time this day rolled around, your brother had made his peace with the Shelby brothers, even though you were still to this day not entirely sure what it was they had been fighting about in the first place. 

You hugged each and every on of them goodbye, including Freddie, Danny and Jeremiah despite not knowing them half as well as you knew the Shelbys.

It didn’t matter to you, you still wanted all of them to come back alive. You prayed for it every single night before going to bed, and several times throughout the day.

But your prayers only worked so well, bringing you back John, his brothers, Freddie, Danny and Jeremiah, but not your brother. He had been ambushed in one of the tunnels and died by a bullet to the head.

With both your parents having died when you were still very young, your brother had been the one to raise you despite you being the one taking care of him the later years of his life, and he had been your only remaining family.

It ruined you to hear of the news of his death. You didn’t eat or sleep for weeks. All you did was cry, scream, and cry some more.

But John and the others stayed by your side through it all, and once you had gotten through the first three months of grieving, you started feeling great comfort in being around the Small Heath Rifles. After all, your brother had been one of them, and in a way, you felt his presence whenever you were close to them.

They had seen the same horrors, felt the same pain as your brother. And although you hated seeing them so broken, it made you feel more at ease to know that your brother hadn’t been out there on his own.

True to your word, you finally accepted John’s proposal once the worst of the storm had blown over, and you got married five months after their return from the war. 

Despite still mourning your brother’s gruesome death, you were happier than you had ever been, seeing a chance to a fresh start when looking into the eyes of the man you loved.

But upon his return home, you quickly realized your marriage was no different from what it would have been if you got married before he left.

The very danger he had been heading into at the time remained, and the anxiety of seeing him dead that you had been trying to avoid by declining his offer at the start was stronger now than you ever could have imagined.

You thought you would be living a normal life once he got back. That you would start a family, move to a nice house somewhere in the countryside, maybe keep a small farm, and keep the racing business legitimate.

But the business him and his brothers turned to once they had gotten situated back in Small Heath was everything but legal. Every day, you sat at home, waiting with panic buried deep in the pit of your stomach that John wouldn’t return home.

He lived a dangerous life with the Peaky Blinders, and as he did so, so did you.

You had put up with it for this long, for the unwavering love you felt for him stopped you from even considering living without him. But the instability of your life together, the never-ending cycle of not knowing what was happening when you were apart was eating away at you from the inside out. And you couldn’t take it anymore

“I want a divorce.”

It was like time and place just completely came to a stop as the sudden and unexpected words fell from your lips.

You were seated on the sofa in John’s office, while he worked his way through a thick stack of paperwork behind his desk just a small distance away from you.

As your words fled into the air, the scratching of his pen against the paper suddenly stopped, and you could feel your entire body freezing with dread as you waited for his response, your eyes not once wavering from the fire crackling away in the fireplace in front of you and the

“What?”

His voice was hard, most likely just as hard as the look he was probably giving you at that very moment.

But you refused to look at him, only swallowing as he questioned again. “What did you say?”

You twirled the wedding ring around your finger furiously, bouncing your leg slightly and biting down on the insides of your cheeks to keep the tears back.

“I want a divorce, John.” You repeated, your voice barely even audibly, thick with unfallen tears.

“Are you-�� John cut himself short, struggling to find the right words. He stood up from his chair abruptly, the paperwork now long forgotten. “You want a divorce?”

You swallowed, nodding your head and feeling your lip tremble. “I do.” You whispered in confirmation, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as he walked around his desk and approached the sofa you were sat on.

He stopped by your side, keeping some distance between the two of you. He was silent for a long moment, the air thick with a flurry of emotions radiating off of the two of you.

“Well that’s just too fookin’ bad then, innit?” He questioned finally, now fully having processed your unexpected request and the shock having turned into anger. “Because you’re not getting one.”

The grip you held on your own fingers tightened, and the first tear finally escaped your eyes to roll down your cheek.

“Once you marry a Shelby, you stay fookin’ married!”

You jumped in your seat as he suddenly yelled out, his foot shooting out to violently kick the side of the very sofa you were sitting in.

You whipped your head around to face him at that, standing up. “You would force me to stay married to you even if it killed me every day?” You asked, seething and looking at him through narrowed eyes, not even caring that you were fully crying at this point.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, throwing his arms out. “Do you want a bigger house? I’ll buy you the biggest house in all of fookin’ Birmingham!”

“I don’t want a house!” You quickly shot him down, raising your voice. “I’m perfectly content with what I have now!”

“Then what’s the fookin’ problem?!” He yelled, to which you let out the painful sob you had been holding in for the entirety of the evening.

“The problem is that I don’t have you.”

His demeanor seemed to falter ever so slightly, his face softening. But the fire was still burning strong behind his blue eyes as he walked closer to you, looking at you with questioning eyes. 

“What are you on about?” He asked. “You’ve always had me.”

Your eyes instinctively fluttered closed at the feeling of his hand coming up to cup your cheek, the touch only causing you to cry even more.

“It doesn’t feel like it.” You denied, your voice cracking with the tears. 

You opened your eyes, looking up into his. “Every day I have to sit alone at home and wonder whether you’re going to come back to me alive or dead on a stretcher. I’m losing my grip on you. I can feel you slipping further and further into Death’s arms for every passing day and I can’t take it.”

John watched you closely as you spoke, his lips pursed and his jaw tense, but his thumb still wiping away at the hot tears rolling down your face.

“I can’t fucking take it, John.” You admitted, crying. “It’s me or them. Me or your Peaky fucking Blinders.”

John had never in a million years expected you to want to divorce him in the first place, but when that sentence passed your lips, he was more taken aback than he had ever been before.

His face turned down with disbelief and his hand suddenly fell from your face as he took a step back. “They’re my family.” He said, and you crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself for some comfort.

“I’m your family, too.” You cried quietly, but he only shook his head.

“That’s not fair. You can’t do that to me. It’s not fair.”

“Perhaps not.” You agreed. “But it’s a choice I feel like I’m forced to give you.”

He said nothing, so you continued. 

“I want to have a family, John.” You said, chuckling tearily. “I want to settle down and have a family of my own. Kids. And I want it all with you. But I would never forgive myself if I brought a fatherless child into this world. I want to give my child a better life than the ones that we’ve had. With the love and support of both parents.”

John shook his head, his breathing now having gotten significantly heavier and his eyes glossier by the tears that were starting to sneak up on him. 

“It wouldn’t be fatherless, though, would it?” He argued. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t get to decide whether or not you stay when you get injured and can’t be saved.” You pointed out, and unwrapped your arms from around your body, walking forward and raising your hands to bring his face closer to yours.

“Leave with me.” You begged, searching his eyes and pressing your forehead to his. “Leave for me. For me and our future family. You’re bright, John. You’re so smart, so kind, and you have so much potential. You know you were meant for a life much bigger than the Peaky Blinders. This is not your destiny.”

He looked down at you with hard eyes, tears now pooling at the corners of his eyes. He sniffled, trembling slightly under your touch, indicating just how hard he was trying to keep his calm when he was really panicking on the inside.

For a moment, you held hopes that he was going to agree, tell you to go pack your bags, that he would take you away from Small Heath, gang wars and the violence and death that came with it.

But then he shook his head, and your face instantly fell.

“Fuck destiny.” He swore, tearing his head out of your grasp and taking a step back again. “Family is the only thing that matters.”

“Then what am I?” You snapped, a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes. “Because it certainly does not seem like I fit into that category.”

“You’re my wife. That’s what you are.” He answered, pointing a finger at you and glaring with all his might. “You’re supposed to clean the house, cook and keep your mouth shut. What I do by means of business is none of your concern, and you know what Tommy thinks about you putting your nose where it don’t belong. Why can’t you just be happy? My duty as your husband is to provide for you and that’s exactly what I’m doing. How the food ends up on the table shouldn’t matter so long as we don’t starve.”

This entire conversation and situation had been unpleasant from start to present, but you could swear you felt your heart break into a million tiny, prickly pieces behind your chest at his words. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

Sure, you hadn’t known each other for more than a few years and you had barely been married for two, but you really thought your loved would have matter more to him than he was letting on at that moment.

“Is that seriously what you think?” You asked, your sorrow  slowly turning more and more into fury.

“Of course it fucking matters!” You yelled. “The life we build together won’t matter at the end of the day if you run off and get yourself killed!”

“I won’t get killed!” He argued.

“You can’t promise that!”

The entire room seemed to shake under the loud volume of your voice, and it seemed to take John by surprise as he calmed down after that, simply shaking his head slowly and continuing in a much quieter voice.

“You can’t keep this up forever.” He said, without a doubt referring to the countless other times you had brought up that you didn’t feel comfortable with the life he led. “People are starting to talk. Saying I don’t know how to handle my woman.”

This time, his words actually brought a scoff out of your lips. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

“Is that so?” You challenged, glaring at him fiercely. “Well, you’ll be glad to know that your woman is sick of getting handled and no longer wishes to be yours.”

You tore your eyes away from his and looked down at your hand, starting to twist the ring off of your finger.

John instantly took note of this and rushed over to you, taking your hand in his and stopping you from completely removing the small piece of jewelry. “Come on, (Y/N). What are you doing?”

Although it pained you greatly to do so, you ripped your hand out of his warm grasp, wasting no time in going back to tug at the ring. 

“I think I’ve made it pretty clear by now that I’m not staying.” You deadpanned, keeping your attention on the ring to avoid looking at his expression as you did so.

Because if you did, you knew you would just break down completely.

“If you love me like you claim you do, you cut this shit out right now.” He told you, his voice low and threatening.

It broke your heart to hear him utter those words in that tone, but it broke you even more as you finally got the ring off and looked back up to meet his teary eyes.

You had to strain your entire body in order to stay strong, glaring into his eyes as you answered. “If you loved me like you claim to do, you wouldn’t have forced me to stay in a life I don’t feel safe and happy with. You would’ve left with me.”

And with that, you pushed the ring into his hands and turned around, leaving the room. 

He didn’t make any move to follow you, and in that final moment, it was his choice not to do so that made you realize your choice had been the right one. 

[livinasimminlife]

Dear David...

If you’ve kept up with The Krazy Crazy Life of Kassiopeia Fullbright, you’ll know about the appearance of the Bayless family from Twinbrook. If not, then, ***minor spoiler alert!***

Davis Lamar is related to them... a.k.a. David Bayless. Arc 34, Remembering, briefly features the Bayless family. I decided to share some stills from my gameplay for fun. 

Avery Bayless (14)  is rather angry that the soda machine ate her simoleons. She really hoped for a refreshing drink after school.

Dear David, I really hate this blasted machine! I wish you were here to reach up with your long arms and grab the cola. 

Frustrated, Avery gives up and comes home to play ball with her brother, Taye on their Bayuck swamp farm.

The days and nights kinda blend together, but every night, Taye and I play ball. It’s kinda nice. I know he wouldn’t admit it but he’s grown to be handsome while you’ve been gone... er... except for those ears! 

Taye Bayless (17) tosses a baseball with his sister, Avery near the swamp. He’s taking a break from studying for exams, and he adores his kid sister. 

At least I can wear my hair long to cover mine. The girls at school still make fun of me. I don’t know if I can ever show my face again there after falling flat on my pimply nose while trying to get that blasted cola!

Avery and Taye play ball in the yard near the water tower that provides fresh water for the Bayless family. Also Avery’s sporting her rainboots since the ground can be quite mushy in the swamps. Avery shares a special relationship with Taye as they both love the outdoors and are active. 

But here on the farm, I can just be goofy self and laugh and play in the yard. No one’s gonna see me with all this swamp grass ‘round. Don’t feel like you gotta write back. It’s just stupid stuff here, really. Don’t even know howta end so bye, I guess. ~ Aves

Skye Bayless (16) plays the bass much like their older half-brother, Davis. They also have a flamboyant style. In game, when Skye aged up from toddler to child, they had a feminine hairstyle, and when they aged up to teen, Skye was actually wearing a dress. I decided Skye is gender fluid as the game encouraged me, preferring they/their as pronouns. Look at the pure joy on their face! 

Evening hangs in sultry skies; the heat of sweetgrass swaying in the sweaty breeze. The scent of sun-soaked tea tickles my nose and tempts me away from practice. I ponder little and then I play the love song only Bayucks know and beat my foot upon the porch wood. I strum the notes you taught me b’fore and think of the soft twangs on a sweltering night that barely scratch the sky for which I’m named.

Skye shares a room with their older brother, Taye. Taye is a studious kid and is looking forward to university and getting out of the backwater swamp. Here he practicing writing his speech. 

How do I start? I miss you sounds trite. I love you sounds stupid. But I do, mmkay? Uni apps are due soon and M’as breathi’n down’em my neck, but ya know...what she dont’ realize is I really wanna go and be out there in the world. And somehow I know its tough for ya’s now, but you make it seem okay... that the world aint so scary if you can face everythin’g that’s you have and still come out okay. So hang on... oh and um... when you get home... I still need help with apos’trophes. - Love, Taye (and yeah, Im cool with mushyness but dont’cha tell Ma). 

Little River (5) Bayless is sad. She misses her big brother very much. She also lost her doll somewhere and fears the dog took off and buried it somewhere in the swamp. 

Dear David, I miss you. I love you. My dolly is gone. I think the dog took it. I think the dog put it in the yard in the ground. I wish you was here. We could dig it up to...to...too...(it’s a big word - Chase helped me). together. ~ River 

Shepherd Skeet Bayless may live in the Bayuck swamp, but he’s far from backward. True, he prefers the simple life, but he takes pride in his swamp farming skills. Here he tends to the sweetgrass his family has grown for generations and practices his sermons. After all, plants are very good listeners.

 Son, I miss you. We can’t wait for you to be home. I think it would be good to spend time in the garden together. Plants have a healing nature to them. After all, the Good Lord gave us a garden to tend to give us purpose and a place. Enclosed are my notes from my latest sermon, some psalms, and a few of your favorite hymns. I’ve taken to preaching to the plants. I know it’s dumb, probably, but they listen. I hope you’ll listen and know that you just get well and get home soon, okay? 

At twilight, Chase Bayless (19), all grown up, and capturing the land she calls home on the canvas. It’s a cooler evening than most, the mists of the swamp rising up to provide some low haze. She’s home on break from uni, an Education major, and she took up painting to unwind.

Dear David, I don’t want you to worry about me. Shark Racket broke my heart all those years ago and I know how angry you were. But today he brought me a cake. He dropped it off on the porch and ran away like a sissy, but I saw him through the curtains. I think he heard about your situation somehow. Townsfolk talk. The parishoners whisper among themselves on Sundays and I don’t like it. But you don’t need to worry about it. I’ll bop any of ‘em on the nose if they speak badly about you. 

Ma Bayless... Gwayne, that is, has enchantress abilities. She hoped at least one of her children would inherit her supernatural genes, but alas! No matter how many kids she popped out, not one of them is “special.” She takes out her frustrations by crafting potions (legal and illegal) in the attic of the Bayless Manor. 

Ma’am’s spendin’ most nights in the attic. I don’t think she’d admit it, but she feels guilty. She’s working on the perfect stress potion. She says it’s for her, but I don’t think so. I hear her mumblin’ to herself, hissing at herself, and she says your name a lot and that she’s uh... failed you. Don’t tell her I said that. She’d probably wring my neck like a spring chicken. 

Avery, like her siblings, Davis and Skye, loves music. It brings a smile to her face every time she can tickle the ivories in the evenings. What southern home is complete without a family music room? 

The armless statue of the goddess Veni offends Pa Bayless, but Chase brought the beauty back from her studies abroad in Sim Union. After three days of arguing, Gwayne finally convinced her husband to keep the peace and allow the lady to be on display. 

Did I tell you I got to study abroad? You aren’t the only Bayless to travel now, big brother. I betcha can see my smile. I can still try and one up you, ya know? I spent some time in Championne, in the City of Lights. Oh it was beautiful! I wish you could’ve seen all the art and culture and that you could taste the scones. I’ll make you some when you return.You still like blueberries, right?

I’ve enclosed some of my silly scribblings from the trip. I hope you don’t mind. Tonight I’m painting on the porch. I can hear Skye and Avery both play different songs, and yet somehow they blend so beautifully. I think you’ve inspired them. 

When she isn’t enchanting, Gwayne likes to feel the earth between her fingers. After all, an enchantress has a special relationship with nature. It’s the only time she can be “free” and doesn’t feel the pressures of motherhood and her business management career. 

And Ma’am too. You know she loves you in her own way. She spends more time in the garden now than she ever did, in the section we used to call yours. She’s trying to cut back on her hours at city hall. I think she misses you. But yeah, don’t tell her I said it. This is our secret. 

Taye gets in a late night workout in a dark corner of the attic. He really wants to grow out of the “skinny boy” stereotype. Alas! I don’t think he’ll grow into those ears! 

Taye’s upstairs now fighting on the weight machine like you always did. He’s determined not to be so scrawny anymore. 

In the backyard, River plays pirate in the treehouse. Land Ho! 

And River... I caught her in the treehouse you built with her and Pa tonight. She sleeps out there most nights, playing pirate into the wee morning hours. She says she’s lookin’ out for you over the Gulf. You’ve got a guardian angel you know that? Well, I should sleep. I’ve got an online class in the morning and I need my beauty rest. I hope you’re hanging in there. Hurry home. ~ Yours, Chase 

Hope you enjoyed! 

(The arc itself is NSFW, but if you want to read the chapters featuring the Bayless family directly/indirectly, you can read Unyielding and Unexpected.) 

[williamshakespaw]

Chronicles

“For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” Romans 3:23

A short story I wrote with a horror character I’ve been working on for a few years. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed finally writing something for him.

“Hey! Knock it off Mike!” David screamed as his older, torturous brother twisted his arm in an indian burn. They were only children then and sessions like this were a daily occurrence in David’s home. Only this time Mike wouldn’t stop twisting. He kept twisting and twisting until flesh peeled from muscle and the young David watched as his skin began sloughing off of his body.

David awoke screaming in pain. His scream was cut short as he instinctively moved to get up but was immediately pulled harshly back onto the ground. David’s head hit the stone floor and for a moment he saw stars. A dream. Just a dream. He thought to himself as he waited on the floor for his head to stop spinning. “But where am I?” David whispered aloud to himself as he sat himself upright. The pain in his hands still persisted despite being awake and David looked down to the bailing twine wrapped around his wrists.

Come on, it’s like a long night of partying. Put back together what happened. David thought as he felt his heart rate accelerate in fear. You went over to Sara’s to fix her sink. Things got hot and heavy as usual, and then… His brow furrowed in thought as he tried to swim through the fog of his memories. “John.” David finally said, his voice dripping with malice. “That scrawny bastard. Where are you!” He screamed into empty air. “I swear! If you’ve hurt Sara I’m going to put you six feet under!” Silence hung in the air of that empty cell for a long few seconds. That silence was only broken by the cawing of crows in response.

A shiver went down David’s back as those caws filled the void of his dungeon. “Always knew he was a fucking creep.” David mumbled to himself as he awkwardly stood up without the use of his hands. Thankfully, David’s eyes had mostly adjusted to the darkness surrounding him. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made from rough cut stone. A heavy wooden door was the only way in or out of the small space. The only thing provided was a small bucket in the corner and the entire room smelled of stale piss and dried blood.

I need to get these restraints off first. David thought as he looked down at his bound hands. He started by examining the walls on the perimeter of the cell. The only thing David needed was something sharp enough to cut the twine. From his own experience on a farm he knew there was no way to simply rip them off. After coming up with nothing sharp enough, David anxiously glanced at the bucket in the corner. “God damn it.” He said and sighed to himself. David awkwardly knelt down next to the bucket and examined the rusted metal. It was just corroded and textured enough to be able to saw a hole through the twine.

After a few moments of trying to position his wrists on the lip of the bucket, David lost his balance and knocked the bucket down with him. It’s rotten contents spread across the stone floor and partially onto David himself. He shakily righted himself and violently wretched from the smell. After a few ragged breaths, David put his wrists back to the bucket and began sawing through the twine.

David sighed deeply at the instant relief he felt by breaking his bonds. His wrists were rubbed raw and at some parts David thought he could even see muscle. David’s eyes went to the imposing wooden door as he wracked his mind trying to think of how to get passed it. He looked back down at the rusted bucket and an idea came to him. David stomped hard and the brittle metal snapped underneath his boot. After looking at all of the possible pieces to take, David decided on a long sharp piece of the handle. He moved to the door and began to pick the old lock and prayed that the rusted metal wouldn’t break. Finally, a small ‘click’ echoed out through the cell and the door slowly creaked open.

“Yes!” David said to himself with a small smile. He quickly ran out into the hallway and stopped dead in his tracks as he was met with about 15 crows that turned to stare at him with black, hollow eyes. David covered his ears in pain as a cacophony of birds and feathers echoed through the hallway. A rush of black plumes and sharp talons flew by David and knocked him to the ground once more.

As soon as it started it was over and the dungeon was quiet once more. “What the fuck is this place.” David mumbled to himself as he examined the fresh scratches dotting his skin. He shakily stood once more as he looked around the hallway he found himself in. Old, flickering lights lined the ceiling which cast the hallway in a dismal glow. Various doors very similar to the one David just went through lined the walls. Some of them swung ominously open, almost inviting him to step inside. Others were shut and, David assumed, locked.

Groans of pain hauntingly echoed through the stone hallway and David’s blood ran cold as he realized he wasn’t the only one here. Sara. He thought as he made his way  cautiously down the hallway. David glanced in a few of the doors but the cells were too dark to see into from the outside. He pulled on the handle but the door didn’t budge. “Sara?” David called into the dark cell. Once again, his only response was a cawing from somewhere deeper in this nightmare.

David continued this pattern multiple times on multiple different doors. Each time met with the same reply reverberating through the halls. He eventually turned a corner and came face to face with a single crow standing in the middle of the corridor. The crow cocked its head and looked at David with those dark, beady eyes. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before a chill ran down David’s spine. It suddenly felt like there was someone, something, else in the hallway with them. A horrifying something that was slowly getting closer and closer.

All of a sudden, the crow squawked and fluttered its wings as it flew down the hallway and rounded the next corner. David watched as it’s shadow disappeared and was replaced with a different silhouette. Something larger, something more humanoid. John! David thought as adrenaline coursed through his body. He quickly glanced around for something to hide in or, better yet, use as a weapon.

Without wasting much time, David ducked into one of the open cells and pressed himself up against the wall behind the door. The sound of boots on the stone floor began to approach David’s hiding place. “I ain’t got time to deal with this. Sara is waitin’.” John said to seemingly no one in particular. A crow cawed in response and David heard John sigh heavily. “Alright, alright. Ya make a good point.” He said. Is he talking to the fucking birds? David thought in a mix of terror and confusion.

David waited until the footsteps passed and faded completely before exiting his hiding spot. He made his way quietly down the hallway and strained to hear the sound of John’s boots or more of those damn crows. But the only sound David could hear were his own footsteps and the sound of his heart beat drumming in his ears.

After a few more corners David stopped and frowned to himself. I am absolutely lost. Is there any end to this place? He thought as he tried to get his bearings. However, David’s thoughts were cut short when he heard the sound of wings flapping. He turned to see a crow enter the hallway and land on the floor. “CAW!” It shrieked as it fluttered away back where it came from. “Come on, David. Yer gonna make it a lot easier on yerself if ya just stop runnin’.” John said, his voice coming from the direction the bird flew off to.

John’s shadow crept up the wall like a creature in a horror movie.David turned as fast as he could and bolted for the opposite direction. I might as well be in a horror movie. He thought to himself as he ran through the twisting halls of the dungeon. There has to be an exit here somewhere. David thought as he rounded another corner and was met with another crow. “Shit!” He exclaimed as the bird cawed and flew off past David and down the way he had just come. “Sara is scared and alone. Let us gentlemen hurry this up so we ain’t keepin’ the lady waitin’.” John’s voice said from somewhere down the hallway.

Fuck Sara! I’ve got to get out of here myself! David thought in a panic as he turned and sprinted as fast as he could. It seemed that around every corner there was a crow and John was only a step behind him the entire time. David heaved heavy, tired breaths as he ran around in this seemingly endless maze. He was about to give up when he finally rounded a corner and found a set of stairs that led to a hatch in the ceiling. Please don’t be locked. Please don’t be locked. David desperately thought as he took the stairs two at a time.

David pushed the wooden hatch with all of his strength and it swung open. He all but lept out of the exit and was ready to finally smell something other than decay. Instead, he walked into something worse. Corpses in varying states of decay and consumption hung off of meat hooks suspended from the ceiling. Crows were covering the blighted corpses and picking off bits of their flesh. The concrete floor was covered in various bone fragments and body parts. Some of them look like they’ve been laying there for years.

David struggled not to vomit for a second time as the crows stopped their feast and turned to look at him. David’s eyes quickly moved to another set of stairs to the left of him. He just had to outrun the birds then freedom was his. As David turned to make his escape that horrible sound of wings fluttering filled the room and began to rush toward him. David practically crawled up the stairs in his desperate attempt to flee as the sound of crows came closer and closer.

David launched himself off of the top stair and closed the hatch by kicking it down and standing on top of it. The force of the frenzied birds caused thd wooden door to bounce him up and down. David fumbled with the lock for a moment trying to latch it close. As the lock slid into place the clamor of birds suddenly stopped and David was met with sweet sweet silence once more. He kept his eyes on the hatch as he slowly backed away from it. David expected any moment for that lock to break loose and the crows come rushing out. Or worse, John. He thought grimly.

David didn’t know John very well. No one in town did. If John wasn’t at church or coming into town to pick up something small he was always on his farm. As far as David knew, he lived there with his mother. John’s father, the towns pastor, had passed away about 6 years ago and left the property to his son. Thankfully John didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps and instead he devoted his time to running their small farm. The town got a new pastor and John got to keep his creepy ass secluded to his house. It seemed like it was a win win for the whole town.

Who knows what that guy is going to do to me if he gets his hands on me. David thought as he finally took his eyes off of the hatch. Various stalls lined this room and in the dark David could see the vague shapes of horses. Smells like horses too. He thought as he crumpled his nose against the smell. David quietly made his way to the side of the room and was careful not to spook any horses or run into any more crows.  

Once David finally reached the wooden walls of the barn he quickly found a metal door. David put his hand to the cold metallic knob and prayed that this was the door that was going to save him. This was the door that could lead to his freedom. He slowly turned the door knob and felt the warm summer air brush over his skin.

David stepped outside and took in a deep breath. For the first time in this whole ordeal David felt that he could finally breathe again. He looked around at John’s small farm and actually felt a moment of calm. Outside of that nightmarish dungeon, the property was quite peaceful. The nearby field of sudan grass rustled soothingly in the breeze. A few chickens roamed about in the fading light of the setting sun and picked at the ground. The faint sound of dogs could be heard down near the farm house.

Dogs. Dogs aren’t good. David thought as that sense of terror began creeping up his spine once more. The cawing of crows could now be heard on top of the barking and David froze for a moment while thinking of what to do. If I just pick a direction and run I’ll get out of here. This place can’t go on forever. I’ll get to town, I’ll find the police, and I’ll lead them back to this sickos lair. He thought and clenched his fist out of anger.

David saw a figure walk out onto the porch of the farm house. “I’m gonna find ya’, David. You can’t hide from the eyes of God.” John yelled. He then pointed off toward the barn and David could see the two faint silhouettes of dogs slowly and quietly slinking their way toward the building. David looked over at the tall stalks of sudan grass and decided that hiding in the field would be his best bet. At least those stupid crows can’t get to me. He thought as he pushed the tall plant aside and began to creep quietly through the field.

It wasn’t long after that David heard the flapping of wings once more. He stopped in the field and crouched down in hopes that the birds couldn’t see him in the approaching darkness. The murder of crows above David circled the field and squawked desperately while trying to find him. It seemed that whatever they see, their twisted master sees as well. Not to mention those dogs. David remembered as he nervously looked behind him.

It seemed that the field continued on and on and on. For a moment, David wondered if this was some kind of holy punishment. A purgatory made just for him. Of endless crows, sudan grass, and the one guy in town you don’t want to be left alone with. Perhaps this madness would never truly end. Maybe when John’s dogs got to him David would simply wake back up in that cell and start all over again.     

His thoughts of penance were cut short at the sound of rustling in the grass behind him. David quickly spun around as the crows went silent and two low growls could be heard in the dark. Two border collies, one black and one brown, could be seen moving between the stalks and making their way toward him. The sight of the dogs eyes reflecting in the moonlight caused adrenaline to course through David’s body.

That basic human instinct of fight or flight kicked in and David ran as fast as he could. The rough texture of the grass whipped across his face and stung his wounds. The growls behind David turned to barks as the dogs sprinted toward him. It wasn’t long after that he felt one of the border collies fangs sink deep into his calf.

David tasted dirt and blood and his head hit the ground. Despite the pain, David reached his hand out to grasp something, anything, to pull him away from the animal. From the corner of his pain blurred vision David saw the other dog appear. It lunged for his outstretched hand and David screamed in pain as he felt his bones crack under the pressure of the dog’s mouth.

“Down.” A low voice commanded from somewhere outside of David’s field of view. He gasped in relief as the dogs released their grasp on him and then David began to cry. Hard wracking sobs ran through his broken body as he lay there weeping and mangled in the field. David then shakily turned his head to look at his assailant for what he hoped would be the last time.

From David’s position on the ground, the full moon cast an ethereal halo around John’s head. The two border collies retreated back to their master and sat like guardians on either side of him watching David for any sign of defiance. A crow sat perched on John’s shoulder and stared at David with those piercing black eyes. In fact, many more crows flew above and hopped around on the ground next to him. The birds seemed to be completely silent in their movements as the ones on the ground slowly began to approach David.

Is this how I die? In some psychos field? David thought to himself as he whimpered and placed his head back on the ground. “Ya ain’t dyin’ yet.” John said as he knelt down onto the ground. David winced as John took his head in his hands and turned it so that David was facing him once more. “Ya got a lot to answer for, Mr. David Johnson. And I’m here to listen to every last confession.” John said and he took out a rag covered in some kind of liquid.

John put the rag to David’s face and he thrashed against the man’s iron grip. Not long after, David’s vision began to blur even more than it was and his field of view began to darken. The world began to spin and the crows circling above him looked like a hurricane of feathers and darkness. David felt hands under his arms and the bottom half of his body being dragged along the dirt and then he fell unconscious.

David awoke with a sharp, rhythmic pain in his abdomen. John had thrown the broken David over his shoulder and was walking down those dreadful stairs to the basement of his barn. With every step John took his bone would dig into David’s bruised and battered stomach. He tried to fight against the pain. Tried to fight to stay awake. But it was all too much and it wasn’t long before David blacked out once more.      

The smell of rust, death, and decay filled David’s nostrils and woke him up from his comatose state. He groggily opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision and his clouded thoughts. How am I not dead yet? Am I actually in hell? David thought as he looked around the small room.

He was kneeling and his hands were bound together by handcuffs and resting on a long piece of polished dark marble that was littered with candles. David attempted to get up only to find that the chain of the handcuffs were stuck to the altar by a heavy weight. In his drugged and injured state David had no hope of breaking his bonds from sheer strength alone.  

David looked around his surroundings and was momentarily entranced by what he saw. The ceiling was domed and at the crown was breathtaking painting depicting angels of justice dressed in glittering plate and armed with holy weapons. Lower down the wall the mural transitioned into depictions of martyrs being brutally executed for their faith. David remembered learning about martyrs in Sunday school alongside John and Sara when they were kids. Though now he couldn't remember the name of a single one. Never thought I would regret not going to church. David thought with a tired smile to himself.

The closer to the floor of the room the painting got the more gruesome it became. Pictures of unholy looking creatures that were dismembering and sodomizing their victims in every way David could imagine possible. In the flickering candle light David could have almost sworn he saw his own face amongst the sinners that were sentenced to an eternity of punishment.

The sound of the door to the apse opening brought David back to reality. He looked over at John who entered the intimate space with his two dogs tailing at his heels. A small flock of crows followed soon after and scattered about the room. They perched on various candelabras and smaller offering tables that were placed methodically around the chamber. A few squawked at David and landed on the altar to peck at his exposed skin.

John calmly walked over to the polished marble slab and shooed away the crows that were closest to David. They squawked and fluttered off in a huff to perch somewhere else in the unholy sanctuary to watch whatever judgement John was about to pass on him. David could feel all of the eyes in the room on him. Almost like all of the animals were the jury in a hellish courtroom.

In the light, David was finally able to get a good look at John. He was tall and lanky for being as strong as he was. John’s face was square and angular and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved in an few days. His dark tousled hair lay to the side of his head and his eyes flickered with a sense of righteousness that caused David to look away in fear and guilt. What have you done wrong? This freak is the one that kidnapped you.   

“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” John said in the low monotone voice of someone lost deep in prayer. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our tresspasses, as we forgive those that have trespassed against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.” As he finished the room went deathly silent. “Do you remember what those words mean? I remember sayin’ em with ya every Sunday for a long time.” John added seriously after a moment.

“Fuck you and fuck your words.” David said and spat a mixture of spit and blood at John. He looked down and lightly brushed off his button up shirt before looking back at David. “They ain’t my words. You abandoned God and therefore recent the privilege of Jesus dying on the cross for your sins.” John said and reached for a hatchet with an intricately carved handle. “Which just means you gotta suffer for ‘em yourself.”

David nervously looked between the axe and John trying not to lose his composure. The room, the bible quotes, the crows. He refused to believe any of it was real. It was too ethereal and too ecclesiastical for this to be in a small town in rural Alabama. They had to be in hell. It was the only way to explain it.

“We’ll start back at the basics sincein’ you forgot what it means to be a good Christian.” John said as he set the sharpened end of the axe on the altar next to David’s uncrippled hand. He instinctively jerked away but there was nowhere to go. David was left completely to John’s mercy. If he has any. He nervously thought at he watched the flames of the candles reflected in the metal of the axe head.

“How many things have you stolen in yer life? I remember you bein’ the best lockpick in town. At one point you were makin’ a business out of robbin’ decent folks cars and homes.” John said and lifted the axe in his hand. “Let him that stole steal no more: but rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he may have to give to him that needeth.” He repeated methodically and set the metal lightly on David’s hand. “Let’s make that thieving hand of yours useful.” John said coldly as he raised the axe and struck down hard on David’s wrist.

David screamed out in agony as the sharpened metal cut through skin, muscle and bone. His vision went in and out from the pain as John continued to hack at David’s hand. After three swings his hand was completely severed from his wrist and David looked down in disbelief at the stump that was left behind. The blood that had spurted from his limb began to pool on the dark marble and drip off of the edge.

The shock of the situation delayed the pain long enough for David to watch John take his severed hand and toss it on the floor next to where his two border collies were guarding the door. The dogs immediately lunged at the piece of meat and devoured it in seconds. They looked at their master with blood stained mouths and wagged their tails in anticipation for more treats. “No beggin’.” John scolded and the dogs lowered their ears in disappointment and returned to their post.

The adrenaline began to wear off and David started to whimper at the increasing pain. Tears began to roll down his face and John smiled down at David. “Cryin’ is good. It means yer truly understandin’ the pain you caused others.” John said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

“Now, let’s talk about Sara.” John said as he wiped the head of his bloody axe on his jeans. “Sara never loved you.” David said with a short sniffle. He was going to die here. David had come to terms with that fact even before the whole hand chopping incident. The least David could do was torture this freak the only way he knew how. “She always acted so cute and so nice for you so you’d do whatever she’d want. Sara had you wrapped around her little finger and you ate up every minute of it.” David said as he grimaced through the pain he was in.

David looked up to John whose face had twisted into that of one of rage and anger. “How dare ya say that about her. Sara would never do somethin’ as...as...wicked as that.” He growled and a blush rose on his cheeks as he placed his hands on the side of the altar and glowered at David. He stared John in the eyes and listened as the sanctum echoed with the ruffle of feathers and angry caws.

John had always turned to a flustered school boy when it came to Sara and even in this moment, in his unholy menagerie of faith, the mere mention of her still seemed to have that effect on him. In John’s brief moment of weakness David felt in control for the first time since he woke up in this hell hole. Despite the situation a small smile cut through his pain ridden expression. “You were nothing to her. Remember when you found us? When you came in to drop off the groceries you bought her and we were fucking on the couch? Did you wish you were me in that moment? Kissing her lips and touching her ass and-” David blurted out before he felt John strike his head with the blunt side of the axe.

Something inside of David’s head cracked and the world seemed to flip upside down. The images of angels and demons and martyrs blurred with the crows frantically flying around the apse. John’s enraged expression flickered hauntingly in the light of the candles and the shadows of the birds. He was screaming something that David couldn’t make out over the cacophony of sound echoing in the small space and his own dazed state. Eventually, David couldn’t feel the axe coming down on his head anymore. In fact, he couldn’t feel anything at all.

John stood in front of the altar breathless with the bloody axe turned backwards in his hand. “Wrath!” One of the crows circling the room squawked out. “Cease from anger, and forsake wrath,” A different crow cried. “For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the earth.” Another crow finished.

John took deep breaths to calm his nerves and block out the crows mocking words. The images of Sara on top of David came flooding back into his thoughts. “She forgot you were coming over.” One of the crows reminded John of the excuse Sara had given him. “It ain’t what it looks like. David just came over to fix my sink.” A different crow said aloud in what sounded like Sara’s voice. When the crows knew John wasn’t going to reply the ruffle of feathers and agitated screeches began to calm down.

John looked at the shattered and maimed body of David that lie strewn across the altar. He looked down at his own brain and blood stained clothes and wiped a piece of viscera from his cheek. “Then the people rejoiced, for that they offered willingly, because with perfect heart they offered willingly to the Lord.” John said his prayer and looked up and toward the paintings of righteous angels and holy martyrs. He looked back down to David’s body and smiled before adding “and David the king also rejoiced with great joy.”    

[some---words]

Jacksonville Skyline

The heat clung to the crumbling pavement; their bikes sliced through it like a knife through a peach pie, kicking up gravel around their balding tires. It was the four of them, like old times. Like always. Mary, with her golden locks pulled back in an effortless ponytail; Jojo, who would deck you if you dared call her Josephine; Poppy, who still kept dolls lined up neatly on her windowsill; and Kit, whose dark skin made her quieter than she wanted to be. Four girls on the edge of womanhood, in a small town at the end of the world.

They knew every dusty inch of this little town, heard all the stories from generations that never left. They didn’t remember exactly when the stoplight went in on Main Street, but they were ambivalent as their parents all the same. They knew to be polite to the soldiers who flooded the bars on weekends, but not too polite as to be unladylike. Funny that anyone even considered them ladylike--they’d been covered in a layer of childhood grime since the day they were born.

That summer, they turned 13 in rapid succession. Mary was first, just as she’d been the first to get her monthly and the first to kiss a boy. Jojo threatened to beat up Marlon Johns for getting “fresh,” but Mary assured her that she’d wanted it. Kit wondered how you knew if you wanted it or not, because when her stepbrother snuck into her room at night, she hated the weight of him on top of her and doubted that she’d ever change her mind. But she didn’t ask; she often felt like the baby of the group, and her cheeks burned just thinking about Mary’s patronizing response. She’d ask Poppy about it later, she decided. Poppy never laughed at her stupid questions.

But Poppy was around them less and less that summer. Her grandmother was a battle-ax of a woman who hated the way her only granddaughter seemed to prefer traipsing through the woods to taking tea with her. Every afternoon, Poppy was stuck in a stiff dress, Peter Pan collar buttoned tight at her neck, her rust-red hair smoothed to a shine. At first, her friends would peak in through her grandmother’s window and make faces at her until she giggled and her grandmother rapped her on the knuckles with a walking stick, but then Poppy showed them the angry red lashes that striped her hands and they felt bad and stopped bothering her. They tried not to discuss the hole she left behind, but it stung all the same.

So today was extra thrilling, with Poppy emancipated for the first time all week while grandmother ventured to Raleigh for some errands. They took the dirt roads at a faster clip than usual, relishing in the pierce of hot air through their lungs and the freedom of an afternoon to themselves. They could hardly hope to articulate the feeling they shared, that their easy summer days were numbered, that this was the last time things would ever be this simple. Instead, they rode on into the encroaching dusk without a care in the world.

The woods were there sanctuary. Under the thick canopy of leaves, they could be anyone they wanted. Their elaborate make-believes transformed their surroundings into palaces and pirate ships and far away planets. They took turns playing hero, villain, and damsel in distress. Their games snaked through the makeshift footpaths, across the brook and all the way out to Randolph Farm, but they always ended up back at the Hideout. This was their true home, the one their parents knew nothing about. The rusted, wheeless car frame threatened to disappear completely under layers of vines and overgrowth, but they found their way there every time like pigeons flying home. To the rest of the community, it was an eyesore that the county refused to deal with. To Kit, and to the others, it was a haven from a world that got a little more confusing, a little more sinister, everyday. In short, it was everything.

They made their way there now, bikes soaring towards the tree line, lighter than air. They dismounted gracefully and laid their bikes in the tall grass just off the road as they followed the familiar path to the Hideout. Poppy and Mary chatted excitedly about the coming school year, their first at the small high school. Mary was boy-crazy as ever, her coyness a well-honed trick to keep them asking more. Jojo rolled her eyes and kicked a rock ahead of them. She swore loudly and often that she’d never fall for a stupid boy; no one yet realized how right she would be.

Kit kept her mouth shut, as usual. She liked that the others never pushed her to talk--she preferred to listen anyway. Listen and learn.

Mary was asking Poppy to come to a movie on Friday. “What are we, chopped liver?” Jojo said in disgust.

“It’s double date,” Mary replied. “With boys.”

Jojo wretched. “Which boys?”

“Ryan and Steve.”

“Steve Anderson?” Jojo wretched again. Poppy giggled as Mary gasped in exaggerated indignation.

“What’s wrong with Steve Anderson? He’s cute!”

“He smells like dog food!”

“Don’t mean he’s not cute.”

“Would you guys stop it?” Poppy said, shoving them playfully apart. “Let’s talk about something else.” She started prattling on about the etiquette class her grandmother had signed her up for and how nervous she was about the upcoming cotillion. Mary made a joke about taking her place, and Kit found herself wondering when they’d stopped playing make-believe. She missed their flights of fancy, missed the simplicity of their rural girlhood before boys came crashing in. She was just about to ask if they wanted to play a game when Jojo held out a warning arm, stopping them in their tracks.

“Did you guys hear something?”

They paused and strained their ears against the soft din of the forest. They were nearing the Hideout, and soon Kit could make out the steady, stifled cries of what sounded like a wounded animal. “Maybe we should go get someone,” Kit whispered.

“And do what? It’s probably just an injured raccoon or something.” Jo charged onward, and the girls followed.

When she stopped just shy of the Hideout and ducked down behind a fallen log, they fell in line beside her. “It’s not a raccoon, is it?” Poppy breathed. Jojo shook her head and peaked up over the log. Kit copied her until she could just make out the car frame.

Inside was a girl, not much older than they were, laying on her stomach with a man on top of her. Her dress was scrunched up around her waist; they could see the white of her thighs peeking out from under the man’s legs. His pants were around his ankles, and he thrust rhythmically, grunting each time. Kit felt a wave of bile rise in her throat and focused on the girl’s face, the tears streaming down her cheeks and the blankness in her eyes. She stared so hard into their empty depths that she didn’t see Jojo leap up and over the log.

“Hey!” she screamed. “Get off of her!”

The man looked up, startled, but instead of moving he just laughed. “Oh yeah, you little shit? Whatcha gonna do?”

Jo squared up before him. “Why not get up and come find out?”

“Looks like this little bitch wants a taste of me too.” He laughed mirthlessly and smacked the girl on the ass; she winced, sending a fresh wave of silent tears streaming. Kit’s heart hurt from looking at her.

The man climbed off and out of the car, but didn’t bother pulling his pants up. Mary and Poppy stood beside Jojo now, trying not to stare at the swinging protrusion hanging between his legs. Jojo didn’t even look. She kept her eyes locked on his, her brow furrowed and fists clenched.

He laughed again. “You gonna punch me, girlie?”

For a moment, no one moved. Then he took a sudden step forward, grunting like bear. Jo flinched.

“Ha! Fucking kids.” He turned to climb back inside the car, but he didn’t make it that far. In a flash of movement so fast that no one could be sure just what had happened, he was suddenly on the ground, the side of his head gushing blood thick as stew onto the bed of dead leaves below.

Kit dropped the branch and took a nervous step back. It was Jo who stepped forward and kicked the man with her toe.

“What the fuck, Kit?” Mary said. It wasn’t a question. Kit ignored her and went to the car, where she offered the girl her brown little hand and helped her out of the car. The girl pulled her dress down bashfully and wiped her tear-stained face. She didn’t say a word before she ran into the trees.

The girls never spoke of it, then or ever. They backed away from the body and left their Hideout for good. It was the last day they would ever venture into the woods together. It would take weeks for the body to be found, and no one kicked up much of a fuss for the stranger. He was someone else’s boy, some other town’s problem. 

Before too long, their nerves subsided and the day drifted into a distant memory, fuzzy around the edges and only scary if they thought about it too long. If they thought about it at all.

The school year started, and the girls grew further apart. Mary and Poppy found a group of girls with hair and chests as big as their own, but by high school some perceived slight drove a wedge between them that would last a lifetime. Jojo joined the girl’s softball team; she smiled at Kit in the halls but they rarely saw each other outside of school. Kit floundered for a while before the school insisted she skip a grade. She graduated early and left the little town behind. 

Years later, in another city far away, she would wonder how she found the strength to take that grown man down. The branch had been nearly as big as her, and her scrawny arms shouldn’t have allowed it. But then the mysterious girl’s empty eyes swam into view, and she knew exactly how it happened. She’d had that strength in her all along, a coiled snake just waiting for the time to strike.

She smiled as she thought of Jacksonville now. She thought of the dusty roads and the hopeless street light that never wanted to change. She thought of the woods and the hideout and endless worlds of make-believe, of the dumb boys and the heat of summer and four girls against the world. She wondered what they were up to now.

[icsek]

Obikin Equestrian AU Part 5/? aka Pursuit

Or read here on AO3 as ‘Pursuit’

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Anakin had made sure to text Ben when he’d arrived at home, snapping a quick picture of him in front of the large home with a thumbs up and sending it along with a simple message of ‘here :)’. The drive had been quiet, mostly straight up I-95 until turning off to catch State Road 40 across back home to Ocala. Breha had walked out not long after he’d pulled his truck in the driveway, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Bail won’t be here and I would’ve fixed dinner!” She let him go only to slap his arm lightly, “You should’ve at least called me when you were on your way.”

Smiling, he pulled her into another hug, “I wanted to surprise you with a visit.”

She relented, hugging him tightly once again, “It’s so good to have you home. Come on, I’m pretty sure I might have a box of Captain Crunch in the pantry.”

It was their thing that had started when he’d been just an eleven year old boy in a large home with two people he only sorta knew. He’d been trying so hard to be on his best behavior, using the table manners he’d been taught at the group home, being seen and not heard. Keeping it up had been so difficult and stressful, but they had given him so many things he didn’t deserve and hadn’t earned.

Breha was a volunteer at the group home he’d been at since becoming an orphan at the age of five. He was old enough to remember his mother yet too young to really understand what had happened. The counselor at the home had tried to explain it all to him, but it had taken several years for him to truly understand that his mother wasn’t coming back for him. It was the horses at the group home that kept him going through it all. They were mostly older retired lesson horses and ponies, but he knew each and every one by name, spending most of his free time in the ragged barn brushing and petting them or helping with whatever chores he was able to do.

Breha had been the one to ask if he wanted to ride one instead of just petting and brushing them. He’d seen the older kids in the bi-weekly lessons she gave and watched them, but had never joined in. Anakin had nodded and Breha had saddled up his favorite pony, Snowball, a gray pony of an undeterminable breed or age. When she would tell the story, she’d always smile and tell everyone, ‘The minute he sat on that pony, I knew he was going to make quite the rider. As you know, some people just have it and Anakin has it in spades.’ She’d been right, he’d spent all his spare time on a horse, reading about horses, or cleaning the worn down donated tack while daydreaming about his big show debut.

The big show debut had happened only a year later, a small fun show with the normal flat classes but also egg and spoon races, trail course, and gymkhana events. Breha had been given some clothing from one of her friends who’s son had outgrown them and put a fancy velvet cover over his battered helmet. Snowball had even cooperated to canter a few times during their classes and brought him a blue ribbon.

“Anakin?” Breha waved her hand in front of his face, apparently trying to get his attention while he’d been reminiscing. A bowl of Captain Crunch with only a splash of milk sat in front of him on the bar and he smiled in gratitude before digging in.

“I know that expression, what are you thinking about?” She sat next to him at the bar, eating her own bowl drowned in milk.

“Nothing much, just remembering my first show with Snowball way back when.”

Her laughter was one of his favorite things about her, “I’m surprised you even remember that! You couldn’t have been more than eight? A scrawny little boy on the most ornery little pony I’ve ever met. I still have that picture hanging in the barn office of your big smile with that blue ribbon. You’d worked so hard for that little show.”

“Snowball was an angel to put up with me, I’m surprised I didn’t ride the hair off that poor old pony.” He smiled, polishing off the rest of his bowl and slurping the little bit of milk left in the bottom of the bowl.

“I will give him that, you’ve certainly ridden through several horses. When you moved in with us, Winston hadn’t been ridden that hard or much in years. You’d get up early before school to have time to ride then you’d be right back in the barn once you got home from school. Now look at where you are, Anakin,” she laid a gentle, small hand on his forearm, “riding under an Olympic gold medalist, working towards your own Olympics in Eventing. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Tears threatened to fall when she pulled him into a tight hug, ignoring any pain it caused to take comfort in her arms. Anakin could never consider her his mother, he had one of those already, but Breha was the most important woman in his life hands down. “Thanks, Breha.”

“You’re welcome, darling. Now, come tell me about how things have been with Ben? Is he treating you well? Are you learning anything?” She drew him towards the couch, patting the space next to her.

“He’s a really good teacher, I don’t think my equitation has ever been this good. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard and he’s not the easiest to ride under when you aren’t a paying client, but I get a lot more one on one attention than I was with Don. I’m riding three to five client horses a day for him and doing hour and a half lessons five days a week. Plus he’s letting me lease this really nice gray Hano gelding that I think could really make it as an eventer. He’s far too forward moving to just be a dressage horse. I think I have a video, you have to see the scope this horse has over fences.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and searched through his videos.

When he found the right video of him taking Artoo through a one meter jump course, he pressed play and handed the phone to her, watching from her shoulder, “See? Look at how much tuck he has in his front end, how tight he pulls his feet to his belly. And he’s so brave, his first time through a water obstacle and he didn’t balk one bit. Though he’s stubborn, I don’t think I’ve fallen off one horse so much since I got Twilight off the track.” He pulled up another video, one Ben had taken for him that was filmed completely at the wrong angle, but it was the most recent one he had of taking Artoo through their meager cross country course.

“You’re right, he’s a very nice horse. I can see how much your equitation has improved. Five you said?” She handed his phone back to him.

“He’s coming six, I’m hoping to do a Novice young horse this fall if Ben agrees. I wish you could watch him ride, he’s amazing, Breha.” He sighed wistfully.

“I’ve seen him ride, Anakin, you made me watch his gold medal go at least fifty times the year he won and easily twice that since then. He’s a very talented man. So he’s treating you well?”

He ducked his head to hide the blush that suddenly appeared on his cheeks, “Yes, very well. He’s a really good cook. I get Sundays off entirely too.”

Breha grabbed his chin and pulled his head up to meet her warm brown eyes, “I know that look. He is a rather handsome man, you’d be a good match.”

Anakin’s blush deepened, spreading down his neck in embarrassment, “It’s not like that. Trust me, I’ve tried, he’s not interested.”

“Darling, then he’s missing out on an outstanding and talented young man with so much to give. Someone I love very much.” Breha kissed his cheek, “You look tired, why don’t you go ahead and get a shower and turn in for the night? Bail should be home tomorrow around dinner from a meeting at Hialeah tomorrow.”

Nodding, he kissed her on the cheek and grabbed his bag he’d left by the front door before heading upstairs to his old room. Other than being dust free and freshly vacuumed, his room looked much the same as it did before he left. Pictures, ribbons and plaques filled the walls from the time he’d been adopted at twelve by the Organas. His dresser was full of trophies as were several shelves, ranging from small pony clubber participating trophies to series grand champion trophies.

Pictures on the walls showed a much younger Anakin on various ponies until he graduated from his jodphurs to tall boots and much larger horses. The most recent one had been two years back and his biggest Grand Prix win so far. A picture of him as a teenager and a very racey looking Twilight made him smile. He’d barely known what he was doing at fourteen, but he’d seen the big gelding fresh from the claiming races and had fallen in love instantly. There’d been another mare he’d been saving up for, but he just knew Twilight was the one for him.

Bail had tried talking him out of it, he’d only taken Anakin to Hialeah with him because he’d wanted to watch the races while Bail handled some paperwork and clients he had at the track, but Anakin had been convinced. Company at Twilight had actually been one of Bail’s client’s horses who’d been more than happy to arrange for shipping back to their farm, patting Anakin on the back with a word of encouragement and best wishes with the gelding.

Twilight had been far more horse than Anakin needed, but his coach at the time made sure he took his time and did all the slow work to transition the gelding from the track to life as a pampered show jumper. It was hard, frustrating, and plenty of tears had been shed during their training, but he’d never felt more proud than he had on his self-made horse. From there, it only got better, the jumps got higher, the competition became tougher, but Twilight never let him down.

Anakin hoped it would be the same with Artoo, even if he was technically Ben’s horse. He hadn’t been gone even a day and he already missed the man, though he doubted Ben missed him. He was probably grateful for the break from Anakin's constant chatter and awkward seduction attempts. If he hadn't broken at this point, then Anakin should just give up.

In fact, that's exactly what he would do when he got back. There was no point in continuing to throw himself at Ben and jeopardize the amazing opportunity he had. It was time for Operation Seduction to end.

[clemency-for-the-heathen]

‘To know and not to act is not to know.’ - Wang Yangmin

I’ll try not to repeat myself. I forced myself asleep as soon as I sat down on the plane to China Wednesday night, to banish the pulsing headache that was making me retch, and when I woke up we were about to land and it was 3 p.m. the next day. I was meant to be going to Tianjin, but that’s not where we landed. It turned out I had to transfer. It wasn’t specified during the booking process, it didn’t say on the ticket, the scarlet-nailed thick-as-a-pig-shit fake-tan bitch who checked me in at Gatwick didn’t tell me, and the stewardesses didn’t know whether I had to collect my luggage and re-check-in. It was then that I met a 21 year-old Chinese girl who’d been in London for a month and whose name I couldn’t pronounce, also bound for Tianjin, and she sorted out everything. Before our next flight she spent 3 hours teaching me Chinese. Explaining the 3 characters that comprise ‘airport terminal’ took about twenty minutes in itself. Why was I learning about arable farming in school instead of this? Out on the runway, the dusk was rose and dust, the land flat past the mind’s eye. When I got to Tianjin it was 9 p.m. and I had a sleepless 11 hour wait in the deserted airport without food. I read and thought and watched the night disappear hour by hour. China is a scary place and no one ever talks about it. Three times I had to stand around and wait whilst they called the airline to check I was really traveling on to Korea. Mate, why would I be trying to sneak into your shithole country? When I landed at Incheon, it was approaching midday on Friday and the sky was powder blue. 

 One of those big luxury purple buses took me back to Bundang - Jeongja specifically, right on the river, an affluent area I’d rarely frequented in the past. Sarah was waiting at the bus stop, a merry and porky South Carolinian in her early thirties who’d been responsible for hiring me. She took me to our nearby apartment complex. My room was on the 10th and top floor, freezing from vacancy but decent - wouldn’t have mattered much anyway, for the mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. She let me stay in her cramped place all day sucking up wifi, watching Netflix and eating junk until showing up again at 8 with her 10 month-old baby and her husband, Tom, who was from Taunton. They’d actually both been to Portishead last year to get fingerprints done for visa applications at the Police HQ. Tom spent an hour telling me about his trip to North Korea a few years back and I spent an hour asking him questions relating to it. That’s my next destination, without a doubt, one hundred percent (to visit, not to live). Sarah stuffed an air-mattress, blankets, and a a plastic basket full of cutlery, detergent, and household cleaning products into my arms, and I went up to bed. 

 The next day I had burgers with them and Anthony, a giant body-building black guy (coworker, just like Tom and Sarah) who’d thrown his back out deadlifting stupidly heavy weights and could barely walk. If anyone had any beef with him, then was the time to strike. All three of them spoke less Korean than Chris, who’s been here three times for an aggregate total of about a month, which disgusted me, but they were all so funny and friendly and interesting and I was thinking, Don’t give me more grey areas, life, please. Their baby was eating macaroni cheese; the sight was revolting and cut down the half of my appetite that the jetlag hadn’t. 

 After lunch, in a fugue state from that very same horrendous jetlag, I walked down the river to Seohyeon, where the language exchange centre I first learned Korean at is, for one of my six goals this year is to sort my Korean out by studying with a man. The centre was beset by gloom what with all its East-facing windows, and empty but for one Korean man in his twenties sat studying alone. He introduced himself as Tony, and said that he was also looking for a language exchange partner. Oh serendipity, you little cunt, only showing up when you’re not prayed for, like football miracles and cool funny women with eyes so pretty I could kill myself. Just one thing: Don’t fuck me, Tony; don’t you ever try to fuck me, I successfully resisted the urge to say. 

 I don’t remember how I spent the Sunday, but all of last week I had training, which meant sitting in on Sarah’s classes and teaching parts of them. All you have to do is follow the syllabus, standing beside the interactive screen, having the children perform videos in front of a separate green screen at the culmination of each chapter (weekly or fortnightly). The marking is time consuming but effortless. I met the boss, Minnie, a scrawny women presumably named after her round protruding ears, who had that strange empty affability that suits labour camp leaders just as well as it does businessmen. I ended up going to immigration three times in five days, a nauseating Eastern Blocesque abomination 90 minutes away on the subway staffed by utter utter cunts (I know I say cunt too much, but if there ever were a bunch of cunts, it’s at Omogkyo immigration) thanks to her fuck ups, first not booking an appointment, and secondly booking the wrong one. It became apparent that Sarah was the actual boss, had hired me, was training me, had worked in other academies connected to this in China, Japan, and Malaysia, spoke to Minnie with the freedom of a Shakespearean Fool. For instance, Minnie came into the room and asked Sarah to finish some reports by the end of the day. Sarah replied, ‘Nah I don’t think I’ll be doing that.’ Minnie’s face went blank with seething consternation for a good two seconds before she clocked that Sarah was joking, at which point Sarah broke into her Southern cackle. 

 A man came with a bed and constructed it for me; a man came with wifi and installed it for me. I’m borrowing a bike off of Anthony for six weeks until the girl he’s already sold it to comes back to Korea. I bought a TV in order to use my Mac from an American girl for thirty dollars thanks to a Facebook group called Bundang Buy and Sell, which I’d never been able to use before, as I’ve never technically lived in Bundang. She’d told me to meet her at Seohyeon station, and that she might be a bit late. She was an hour late. Her apartment was 800 or so yards from the station. The TV was huge and weighed about five kilos, the transformer I needed in order to use it that she hadn’t mentioned weighed about ten. Encumbered to an infuriating degree, I waddled back to the station like a gullible cunt, sweating through my jacket and swearing through my teeth a serpentine hiss of fuck, fuck . . for fuck’s sake … for the love of fucking Christ. Why? Why? What did I expect for thirty dollars. However, her apartment was small and filthy, and I felt staggeringly fortunate by comparison, and not only because the attractive woman in the apartment across from me walks around naked every morning with the shades drawn up. I noticed by chance, but what am I supposed to do now that I’ve noticed, not look? Come now. She must know what she’s doing. She must know. 

 Got shouted to halt by a policeman who caught me jaywalking. I was so annoyed at Korea having adopted the stupidest of American offences that when he came up to me I belligerently said, ‘What?’ He pointed to the traffic light and said, ‘What colour is that?’ like a patronising school teacher with a hard-on for authority. ‘Red.’ ‘So don’t cross.’ ‘But I’m late.’ ‘Don’t be late.’ Yes sir, sorry sir. Next time I’ll make sure you’re not looking, sir. 

 I met Tony last weekend for our first language exchange session - an hour of Korean, an hour of English. His English is already fluent so there isn’t a lot I can do except help him to sound more natural. He’s been going to the language exchange centre for 4 years and somehow we’d never met, though as it happens my friend Brian who’s back in America right now knows him. He’d helped Brian get a suit fitted last year. I told Tony that Brian had described him as a ‘playa’, at which point he held up his left hand to show me an engagement ring. I asked him why he’d stopped ‘playing’ and he told me that it was because he’d met a girl who likes to get up early and exercise every day. I thought, Jesus Christ, yeh, that’ll do it. So he’s two days older than me, already engaged, has some lucrative job to do with clinical trials in Gangnam, and dresses immaculately as a gay - in short, puts me to shame, even though that’s not the life for me. He confessed that actually he thought I might be gay, seeing as when I first met him I’d specified I wanted to study with a man. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. I said, ‘But even if I were, why would I have presumed that you were gay too?’ He said, ‘Good point.’ With regard to my Korean ability, he thought it was really ok, better by a mile than most foreigners he’d met, but said that lots of bad habits have been allowed to get engrained from studying by myself for so long. As a consequence, we spend most of the time working on my pronunciation and the cadence of my speech, which is a horribly humbling process but only because its happening three years later than it should have. 

 My confidence is being boosted, on the other hand, by all the things I have to do alone, not having a girlfriend to thoroughly administrate my life anymore. I had to go into the phone shop and explain my situation and get my phone reconnected; I had to instruct the moron wifi installation guy on where to install it in the room and why; I had to go back to my old climbing gym today and rejoin as a member. They remembered me and asked where my girlfriend was. I explained that we’d broken up before traveling. They recognised me as a man no longer suffering GBH of the ear’ole and it seemed like we could have a fresh start, having never really been in the mood to make friends with them before. On top of all this, my ego was tested at the hagwon when I was advised by Sarah to pretend not to speak any Korean, because if Minnie cottoned on to me being even halfway decent, she’d try to make me do phone conferences with the mums. 

 Korean tutor - found; climbing gym - rejoined; hapkido - impossible, at least for the time being, since Master Kim no longer teaches past 9 p.m.; football - found and joined a team of ex-pats and Koreans that trains 25 minutes south of me on the Bundang subway line. My stint in Korea was put in perspective when I found out the ginger guy from Sheffield who’s captain and his Irish best mate have lived here for 9 years and one of them’s got a car. Considering I’ve not played with anything close to regularity since my teens, and laden with clunky running shoes, training went alright. Out of the twelve there, I’d say I was probably the fourth best overall. Twenty people showed up to the first game this weekend, though the captain told me that’ll fast shrink down to the low teens. Half the starting lineup are Korean, and none of them were at training in the week, nor apparently ever come. I think it showed, but the other team were so shit we won 5-0 anyway. I was quite abysmal for the duration of my 30 minute runout in borrowed boots at left wing forward, but I think I’ll soon shake the rustiness off. I also think there’s a place up for grabs in the midfield trio alongside the reliable captain and this short fat Korean guy who no one forces to lose weight or stop smoking cigarettes at half time because he’s got the first touch, vision, and intelligence of Zinedine Zidane.  

 Working on my novel and a sub 1 hour 20 half marathon - these pursuits are reserved for the mornings, my droogies. I’m getting up as early as I can and staring at the naked Korean woman for as short a time as possible, and then I get cracking. With all my stress and resentment channeled into my job, which really isn’t bad (one class was a nightmare, conducted by four wild rude arrogant boys, but Anthony came to my rescue, having suffered at their hands during his first month a few months back. I was to stare at the rudest one for as long as it took for him to stop grinning and mouthing off and eventually cry, and that would break all four of them. ‘You’ve gotta nip this in the bud now, man, or you’ll be suffering for a year,’ Anthony said. God was he right. From this day forward, I will be someone who nips things in the bud.), the hopelessness, depression, regret, and lack of appetite that have marked my last twelve months or so is really starting to drain. The sky is frequently blue and the food is oh so tasty, but that can’t be presumed to be enough. To keep them away, I’ve written five rules on five post-it notes and stuck them to my fridge: 

1: Do not concern yourself with that which you cannot change and/or does not matter.

2: Exercise every day.

3: Write for at least two hours every day; read for at least one.

4: Do not dwell on regret. If you learned from it, then that’s enough.

5: Do your best to make that which is not enjoyable as enjoyable as possible. 

 I look at them every morning. This might be considered a pretty cliched thing to do, but then again one of the important points David Foster Wallace was making with his titanic Infinite Jest is that Postmodernism has a lot of orphans to answer for, that its irony and chaos and catatonic realism are redundant, that saying, ‘Oh how banal,’ to anything remotely sentimental or ‘cliched’ in an emotional sense no longer gets us anywhere and perhaps never it. That’s why I eventually decided to also affix on post-it notes to the wall by my bed the story of the two wolves: 

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. ‘A fight is going on inside me,’ he said to the boy. ‘It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.’ He continued, ‘The other is good – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.’

 The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, ‘Which wolf will win?’

 The old Cherokee simply replied, ‘The one you feed.’

 If you’re wondering why this blog is called Clemency for the Heathen, it comes from one of my favourite speeches in all literature, delivered by the Judge to the kid in Blood Meridian: ‘There’s a flawed place in the fabric of your heart. Do you think I could not know? You alone were mutinous. You alone reserved in your soul some corner of clemency for the heathen.’ The more I think about this book, the higher the regard I hold it in. It’s up there with the best of the best of the best, sir, with honours. The heathen in question are threefold, as far as I can surmise, but what’s most amazing is that to my mind the line could be levelled at any human being (you have to read Blood Meridian, have to have to fucking have to). Anyway, Clemency for the Heathen has been the title of the novel I’m completely rewriting ever since luscious Nicaragua.