#bean and rhett | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asherlockstudy · 4 months ago

Text

They Owe An Apology

A couple of days ago I made a post saying I was experiencing a fallout with Rhett and Link content and Rhett in particular. The cause of the problem was the last EBs episode "We Owe Someone an Apology". While I initially planned to make a fun analysis about this episode, as I was proceeding with it it became so unpleasant that I changed my mind and decided to take a break. However, I observed such an absence of reactions similar to mine both on their channel and here on freaking tumblr where we're supposed to be more sensitive regarding such matters that I decided to make the post after all, except it's going to be more of an angry than a fun post. There is also another reason that made me change my mind but I am not eager to disclose it for the time being. So, if you are the type of fan "Rhett (and Link) are soft beans / must be protected at all costs / can do no wrong", then this post is definitely not for you. Besides, I have been clear from the beginning that I consider Rhett and Link significantly more flawed people than what they own up to and what they let on on the internet. This is something you should know before proceeding.

Let's go:

Booty knot sex

A fan sent them a voicemail telling them that she got an intrusive thought of Rhett's booty knot song while she was having sex and it ruined the atmosphere. Funnily, Link proved to remember the lyrics better than Rhett. When Rhett asked him about this, Link chose to joke that he plays this song when he has sex. Then it was hilarious that Rhett turned to the camera and told the fan that maybe after all she should not get intrusive thoughts of the song because this would also mean she was thinking about him when having sex and Link was kinda like o_0

Dick stretch

The shoplifiting voicemail started a rabbit hole conversation where they ended up discussing reversing circumcision by stretching penile skin. Interestingly, they revealed they watched together a video about this procedure. In the past, Link has said he was interested in this because it could restore more enhanced pleasure. So, they did watch together a video about what they could do to enhance pleasure. It seems Rhett ruined the vibes there a bit for Link because he then said "I should first ask my wife if she would be okay with that". Link, not at all triggered by the wife mention, very level-headedly, implored Rhett in cold blood to let him stretch his skin for him by tying a rope to Rhett's dick and pulling it from out the bedroom window (it's not gay if you pull the dick from out of the house). Rhett refused this because Link is such an aggressive handler. Conclusion: Rhett does not consent to handjobs by Link (or maybe he does but they have the usual fights of not being gentle enough).

Masturbation guilt-non-guilt

The episode was very sexual and it was not clear how it ended up like this but somehow pretty much everything turned sexual. Link revealed how he had fear about getting caught masturbating and he made some strange comments that made it seem to me like he is confused in his mind about what he is supposed to be shy / private about and what not. He kind of sounded like he thought he had issues for not wanting his mom to find out he was masturbating and... I 'm confused by this because it's not Link having issues, I believe a majority of people do not want their parents having a clear picture of their sexual moments. While masturbation should be viewed as healthy and a normal need, it also should be associated with a respect of privacy and boundaries. You don't have to be "hey mom I am just done wanking" to have a healthy relationship with her. This might work for some families but most need higher standards of privacy and that's okay. Point is, I don't know why Link is thinking so hard about that and try to find an issue in it. A lot of things are the purity culture's fault but not everything is a fault of purity culture. I suspect they have missed a bit where the line is due to the culture shock of being exposed first to purity culture and then California lifestyle straight away.

Also, gotta love the idea that these girls meeting Link were watching this episode and found out that Link was prepping becore they met them.

Not a criminal mindset

After an episode with already several incidents of which Rhett should not be proud, the icing of the cake was that he said he has a mind that would be perfect for a criminal and that he is very skilled at hiding what he does and not getting caught. It felt like this conversation was getting deeper for Link. Link cleared his throat and said he is not good at it at all but he vulnerably admitted that he could be easily talked into it by Rhett and Rhett agreed very casually about this. So Link admits the insane influence Rhett has on him and Rhett is openly aware of it as well.

"Anticipation"

Rhett: (on crime planning in movies) oh oh uhhh, that was easy to anticipate. Link: Yeah, anticipation is the thing that requires more effort for some than others. (gestures in the fashion of "just saying") Rhett: You're not much of an anticipator. Link: No, it takes a little more effort.

If you know my theory and opinion on them, you know why I found this exchange interesting. It seemed that Link was trying to convey a message again, like he often does.

Sun vs Sex

During the sun vs sex debate I noticed something I have noticed and wondered about before as well. At the rare occasions of being really, really candid, Link has been established as a less sexual being than Rhett. In his youth he was way less interested in sex than Rhett and he says he was a late bloomer (although I don't think he was as late as he thinks, except he was doing some of the stuff out of peer pressure as he has revealed). As an adult, he is still less interested and he has been clear about how he prioritises quality way over quantity. He has even said he does not mind having sex once a month if that one intercourse is a good one. Actually, this was established this time as well. So I really don't understand why he seems to panic at the thought of not having sex as an old man. First of all, it's simple and even Rhett said this, if you are old and panic at the thought of not having sex then it means you still want sex and you can have it. If you are old and you do not care about sex anymore, then it is no problem, because that's the point of "not caring", sex doesn't matter to you, so you don't dread about not having it because it is not that attractive an idea anymore. But my confusion is why Link keeps revisiting this dread, he almost seems to have anxiety over the future supposed sexlessness and since he has not been that insanely sexual in his past or present I wonder where his worry for the future stems from. I have explained my theories before; this anxiety is probably a result of getting more in touch with his sexual self in a more mature age which perhaps makes him feel that he has lost time he has to win back, except the old age indifference is about to creep up on him. This is already a Rhink theory but to make it even Rhinkier maybe it's a concern associated to a worry that his relationship with Rhett might be more physically than emotionally driven so if this element is eliminated when they get older, then there might be nothing left behind. I am not saying this is how it is, I am saying Link might be concerned about this. Anyway, this is just a theory in the case Rhink is legit.

Robin Hood weighs in on shoplifting

Robin...oops... sorry I meant Rhett and Link were sent a voicemail by a shoplifter, justifying what she does as a small act of rebellion against large capitalist companies. First of all, I don't care about what she does. I do think however that her choice to send a voicemail boasting about shoplifting a large company to another large company was not a well thought out decision and therefore I am concluding the girl is more immature than a rebel in general.

I must say I am also surprised that Mythical approved to publish this voicemail. Couldn't there be risks associated with it, like that company they mentioned that I am forgetting now confronting them for publishing it and tolerating it or even asking about the contact information of the voicemail that can be retrieved. I don't know maybe it's not possible but it still seemed unwise to publish that.

Rhett of course saw a perfect opportunity to play the pseudo-liberal card and get brownie points, talking about the rich oppressing the poor and therefore not endorsing yet "understanding" the shoplifter. Link was uncomfortable with what Rhett was saying, clearly being able to draw a better parallel in his mind regarding where they actually fall into this equation. You see, Rhett was forgetting he is the owner of a large company that works nonstop barely taking any breaks, mass-produces progressively more and more impersonal content, monetises more and more stuff, obsesses over algorithm baits instead of art quality, buys or starts side projects with a clear capitalist profile (i.e Sporked), begs for sponsorships 24/7, nonstop advertises their Mythical Shop and has a history of overpricing stuff beyong belief (i.e GME, horrible cereal and so on). In short, he was so desperate to appear cool and "one with the people" and woke and all that that he kinda forgot who he is.

A few people called him out on his hypocrisy but they were too few if you ask me. I did find my spirit animal in the comment section though

You, Sir or Lady, preach and I will kneel

Transcription of Rhett's commentary on the looks of a girl he met 30 years ago

I will just give you the pure transcription of what he said and you can draw your own conclusions by yourself. In fact you should have done it by yourself and you should have done it already without me having to make a post about it (provided that you have watched the episode of course), because I think it flew way over people's heads if I judge from the hardly 3-4 people who talked about this in the comment section. And I wonder why it flew over people's heads. If such stuff flies over people's heads then expecting them to figure out dynamic nuances and patterns and script symbolism is a lost cause.

Link: We were hanging out and we met these girls and then we were like, let's meet up later and go play putt putt. We played the putt putt. And me and this girl that I was kind of sidling up to, we hit it off and-

Rhett: You mean the pretty one?

(both laugh loudly)

Link: Well, I wasn't going to say it but... uh... yeah and the girl, she was from Ohio. But the other girl, let's call her Martha -

Rhett: Okay, I don't, I can safely say I do not remember her name.

(Link laughs again a little)

Rhett: Boy, I remember her face though.

Link: So, lat- (laughs), later that night when we had arranged to sneak out to meet up.

Rhett: Well, YOU had arranged. I made NO arrangements.

Link: You didn't - uh...

Rhett: I wasn't about to sneak out for THAT.

Link: Which made it a lot safer, I can't believe that I snuck out alone, because you weren't, I can't believe I went through with it when you weren't willing to go out, I mean, I would have thought that I would have stayed because I am skittish. I am so skittish.

Rhett: Yeah, I am proud. I am proud of you.

Link: I know, it's the only time I've ever done something, that's like probably the riskiest, wrongest, like classic kids thing that I have done, is sneak out and uh... I'll tell you, for the longest time I regretted that decision. But now I don't.

Rhett: Oh okay, good. And you shouldn't.

Link: And I don't. But for the looongest time I did. Because - um -

Rhett: I do NOT regret not sneaking out. Just so we're clear. Poor girl.

Link: It was awkward when I showed up and it was just me and -

Rhett: Oh she was also there?

Link: Yeah, she was still there!

Rhett: Okay, did she go back inside?

Link: She went back inside.

(Rhett nods to himself.)

So I said no comments from me but I will give the data in a list, I will spoonfeed this EVEN MORE

47 year old guy judges girls he met 30 years ago as "pretty one and the other"

he does this in a podcast that can be watched by said girls and their social circle who might know about their encounter with the famous youtubers Rhett and Link in their youth

he does this in a public podcast as a public persona with people, including many if not mostly women, who are fans of him

the other girl's name is not worthy of remembering due to her presumed unattractiveness

makes it clear her face was so supposedly grotesque that he can't forget it 30 years later

makes three more strong statements about never intending to go to a date with this girl whom he describes as "that"

makes two more strong statements about wisely not going out with her

he openly pities her (poor girl)

the rest of the exchange suggests Rhett was not crystal clear from the beginning that he is not interested in a date, so as a result the girl waited for him and he stood her up

at this point we should also mention that Link is entertained by this whole ordeal, if slightly uncomfortably

Now you know what my issue was. Ask yourself, why are there only 3-4 people talking about this in the comment section. If you have watched this, check with yourself how over your head it flew and why.

And, last but not least, Rhett, still shocked by a (supposedly) ugly girl 30 years later , at the time he looked like this

Amazing. Some people are born with the nerve.

*Great irony that in the episode in which he boasts about being able to hide and cover for himself is the episode he failed to hide his asshole side.

#rhett and link #rhink #randl #rhett mclaughlin #anti rhett mclaughlin #negativity #ear biscuits #long post #tw long #mythical

38 notes · View notes

angelseraphines · 5 days ago

Text

ೃ⁀➷ CHAPTER ONE. ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ “menthol and malice.”

the bell above the door let out a tired little jingle when she pushed her way in, weak against the dry heat that trailed in behind her. the morning sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but already the sky outside the glass front of the gas station had gone a dusty sort of gold, with pale clouds strung through it like pulled cotton. the wind had passed through the cottonwoods earlier, and their leaves rustled gently, though the world now stood still in that early hour hush that came before the trucks started rumbling down from the upper valley and the men came out of their homes with dirt in their palms from dreams.

ivory sinclair moved with the kind of grace that wasn’t practiced but born, an unhurried, sleepy sway that came from a body accustomed to being watched, though she never acted like she noticed. her boots made a dull sound against the worn tile floor, leaving behind a trace of dust from the dry road she’d driven in on. her hair was tangled from the night before, wild in a way that suited her better than polish ever could. long and dark and soft-looking, it fell down her back in thick waves, pushed half behind one ear, the other side left to fall freely over her shoulder. the tips were sun-warmed, kissed gold from the last stretch of june, and a few strands clung to the faded curve of her collarbone.

her shirt had slipped off one shoulder some time during the drive, or maybe before that, and hung low on her frame, loose and worn and torn a little near the hem. the old print of an american flag had been washed so many times it was more ghost than graphic, barely there in a haze of red and blue that bled softly into the pale fabric. the neckline sagged enough to make her tug it back up once or twice when she thought someone might be looking, though it never stayed where it ought to for long. her lipstick, some dark berry color she’d borrowed from marlene the night before, had faded to a dull stain around her mouth, and her mascara smudged messily under each eye in a way that made her look softer, almost bruised. her skirt was short and stiff with the starch of denim, the bottom seams frayed, her legs long beneath it, honey-pale and bare but for a few old scars from when she used to climb fences barefoot. and those boots, always the same pair, scuffed brown leather worn down at the heel, made her look taller than she was, though she was already tall for a girl, and carried herself even taller.

rhett carver stood behind the counter, sorting through a box of receipts with a half-bored scowl and a matchstick hanging from his mouth, unlit. he didn’t look up when she came in, not right away, but she felt the drag of his eyes the second she stepped down the last aisle and pretended to busy herself among the dusty shelves. there wasn’t much to look at. a row of canned beans, a few candy bars gone soft in the heat, bottles of motor oil. she wasn’t really here for anything in particular. she never was. she didn’t want to go home yet, not when the house would still be so dull and hot and full of yesterday’s air, her dad had already gone out into the fields by now, no one else up but the flies by the screen door.

“mornin’, ivory,” rhett muttered eventually, rough-voiced, like gravel being turned over. she didn’t answer at first. her fingers skimmed along the row of gum packs, the pink ones with dust along the edges, and then she picked one up, turned it over, and set it back without much thought.

he watched her. not the way a man might watch someone he cared for. not even the way a man watched a girl he was fond of. no, it was more calculating than that. colder, heavier. something else behind it. not desire, not really, but that subtle gleam of disapproval that ebbed now and then into something murkier, something more possessive. rhett carver was a good-looking man, if you squinted past the rough edges. he kept his shirts tight to his chest, sleeves rolled past his elbows to show the veins in his forearms, the scar running down one hand from wrist to knuckle. his skin was leathered and deep tan, sun-seared from years outside, and his hair was thick and dark, streaked in places with cinder gray that made him seem older than he probably was, though no one ever knew for sure. his face was sharp, unsmiling, with a strong nose and a jaw that could’ve been cut from rock, and eyes a little too observant for comfort.

he didn’t speak again, but she could feel him growing annoyed as she kept wandering back and forth in front of the same shelves, fingers always touching something, then dropping it again. a bottle of water. a honey bun. a lighter she didn’t need and didn’t even flick. he didn’t like when people wasted time in his store. but she liked the feel of being in here alone with him, for some reason she couldn’t really name, only admit to herself when it was this early, when nobody else would know. maybe it was because he made her feel a little profane, just by being looked at. maybe it was because he made her feel older than she was, more woman than girl. or maybe she liked knowing he was handsome and bitter and didn’t quite know what to do with her, didn’t approve of her hanging around but never told her to leave either.

she took a slow step toward the fridges and let the door swing open with a soft hiss. the cold air crawled up her arms and caught in her shirt, made her shiver slightly. her reflection in the glass showed the mess of her hair, the low slant of her shirt, the bruise-colored circles under her eyes. she looked like the kind of girl men warned their sons about. or maybe the kind they warned their daughters not to become.

“you gonna buy somethin’, or waste both our time?” rhett finally said, voice sharper now, though still slow. he wasn’t looking at her anymore, or pretending not to. his hands were sorting change behind the counter.

she didn’t answer right away. she pulled out a can of soda and then, just as slowly, put it back. then she turned, let the fridge door swing shut behind her with a soft clatter.

“maybe,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair, her voice dry and thick with sleep. “i’m thinking about it.”

he gave her a look that didn’t mean anything. or maybe it meant everything. it was the sort of look he gave when she walked into the larkspur diner barefoot once, back in april, or when he saw her riding on the back of clay halbrook’s bike one night, skirt flying up past her knees. a look that said he didn’t think much of her, but thought about her all the same.

she moved past the candy aisle again, dragging one hand across the top shelf, then walked slowly down the center of the store toward the counter, but didn’t stop there. she paused, glanced around, then backtracked as if she’d forgotten something important. she didn’t look at him, but she could feel him watching her. could feel the heat of it under her skin. her shirt slipped down again and she didn’t fix it. the boots creaked softly as she shifted weight from one foot to the other.

there was a hum of a fridge, the buzzing light overhead that flashed in and out, the sound of rhett shifting behind the counter. no one else had come in yet. the road was still empty outside. it was too early for anyone decent to be up. just her. just him.

she thought of lucy’s laugh from the night before, that sharp-edged howl echoing across the hills by the riverbank, the warm beer bottles they didn’t drink clinking against each other in a paper bag. she thought of marlene singing something stupid with her bare feet in the water, and ivory had been the one to watch the stars, not the bottle, not the boys, but the sky, so wide it hurt to look at for too long.

now here she was again. standing in a place where the lights buzzed and the air smelled of gasoline and burnt coffee, and rhett carver looked at her like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw her out or pull her behind the counter.

“you sure you’re alright?” he said, quieter now, not quite concerned, but something else.

ivory shrugged. “i didn’t sleep much,” she said truthfully, leaning against the counter now, resting her elbows there. “but i’m fine.”

he nodded, slowly. said nothing.

she stayed a little longer, wandering again aimlessly. he didn’t ask her to leave. she didn’t ask him anything at all. and the sun kept climbing, slow and steady, until the glass front of the station was drenched in gold. her dad would be halfway through the first field by now. but she didn’t want to go back yet.

and for now, she liked the hum of the fridge and the weight of rhett carver’s stare, even if she never met it directly.

rhett had disappeared through the back door without saying much, only a low grunt and the familiar rasp of his boots across the tile as he muttered something about inventory and keys. the sound of it grew fainter behind the door marked “storage,” the clatter of something metallic echoing through the back hall, and then a dragging silence settled over the station like a fine dust. the kind that coated everything in its stillness.

ivory stood for a split second in that solitude, half-crouched near a rack of sour candy she had no intention of buying, her reflection faint in the glass cooler beside her, warbled by the dew that gathered on the inside. something inside her itched. something restless and spoiled and too young to know better, too proud to care. it wasn’t boredom exactly. it wasn’t thrill-seeking either. it was that strange, sharp craving for consequence that came to her sometimes when everything felt too placid, too manageable. she didn’t drink. didn’t smoke. never saw the point in stumbling through the world when she already felt half-dreaming most of the time. but she wanted to do something. she wanted to feel something. she wanted the heat of blood moving faster under her skin, the low throb in her neck that came from risk. maybe she wanted to punish herself a little too. she didn’t know. it wasn’t clear, but the feeling was.

her eyes drifted toward the counter, empty now, the swivel chair behind it spinning from where he’d shoved off. behind the register, past the shelf of chapsticks and stale gum and souvenir keychains that hadn’t sold in years, was the wall lined with tobacco products. cartons of marlboros, camels, some cheaper stuff with labels in worn reds and greens, all stacked clean and square, waiting to be bought by men who smelled of diesel and road salt and work. she didn’t smoke and never intended to. she hated the way it clung to clothes, hated how it made some girls’ voices go hoarse too early, hated how it reminded her of truck stops in arizona when she was a child. however, something in her turned toward it now with steady purpose.

she moved cautiously, almost slow enough to seem innocent, boots soft against the tile, her shadow long and misshapen in the fluorescence above. then she slipped behind the counter.

the world changed a little once she was back there. there was a strange heat to it, a closeness she hadn’t expected. the register droned beneath her hands and the wall of cigarettes towered behind her, rows and rows of vices she didn’t want but now had access to. she reached without looking too hard and grabbed a few menthols, some of that red-labeled kind she saw that guy smoking behind the mechanics shop, and shoved them down into the purse hanging loose off her shoulder. her hand shook somewhat as she pulled away, though her face didn’t change. she felt the cold flutter of adrenaline bloom in her chest, her pulse skimming higher, and her mouth went dry. she hadn’t done anything like this before. not really. not unless you counted slipping into the movies through the back alley or stealing lipstick from the rite-aid up in eldora. but this felt different. it was personal. it was rhett carver’s.

she slipped back out before the door creaked again. and it did. right as she made her way to the end of the aisle again, pretending to examine a bottle of something or other, the back door opened with a long wheeze. rhett’s footsteps followed, a little heavier now. she turned as he came into view, gave him a lazy glance over the top of her shoulder, nothing in her face to betray her hands or what they’d done. he grunted again, rubbed a scarred hand through his hair, then went back to his post behind the counter.

“you find what you were lookin’ for?” he asked, voice flat.

“not really,” she murmured, walking slowly toward the door now, purse hanging casual and low at her side.

she was two feet from it when he called out, “hold up.”

she stopped. turned.

his eyes were different now. sharp, no longer disinterested. they scanned her, drifted downward toward the purse. she saw it. that glint of recognition. then he came out from behind the counter. grabbed the bag before she could step back.

“what the hell is this?” he muttered, already unzipping it.

she didn’t fight him. didn’t say anything. she watched as he pulled the cartons free, one by one, each thudding soft and final against his palm.

“jesus christ,” he said under his breath, then louder, “you really that fuckin’ bored, huh?”

he didn’t shout, but the way his voice rose made the space feel suddenly smaller. hotter.

“you had to prove somethin’, didn’t you? daddy’s little girl with nothing better to do but piss people off. steal shit you don’t even want. what, thought i wasn’t gonna notice?”

she stayed motionless. arms crossed. her mouth curled a little at the edge, not in a smile exactly, but something close.

he kept going. “you ain’t smart, ivory. you think you are, but you ain’t. you’re a brat. a dumb one at that. ain’t even sly about it.”

he tossed the cartons onto the counter like they disgusted him, then grabbed the phone off the wall and yanked it down with one hand, his fingers curling tight around it.

“guess we’ll see if sheriff burke thinks it’s funny,” he muttered.

she raised her chin indignantly. “go right ahead,” she said. “he’s friends with my dad. they shoot together on sundays. he’ll give me a lecture, maybe ask if i need to come down to the station as a warning. you won’t get much more than that.”

rhett’s eyes narrowed. “fine,” he said, dialing. “then maybe i call your stepmom.”

ivory blinked, once. exhaled through her nose. “is that supposed to scare me?”

he didn’t answer. simply let the dial tone hum in the silence.

ivory leaned back against the nearest shelf and crossed one boot over the other. she wasn’t scared. not really. jodie burke had known her since she was ten years old, back when she was wearing gingham dresses and bringing home frogs in jars. she remembered her standing by her dad’s side at the summer festival with her pageant smile and bright green eyes, hair in a smooth style and skin like the inside of a pecan shell, too pretty to be real. she remembered when jodie moved back to sierra valley after nevada crowned her miss something-or-other, all the men looking twice at the diner window when she passed, all the women watching too. but jodie only ever looked at vernon sinclair.

and ivory knew her. knew how she worked. jodie was strict sometimes, especially when it came to lipstick and curfews and bad manners, but she never yelled. never raised a hand. she had a soft touch and a stern mouth, and she always smelled of jasmine and smoke, even though she didn’t smoke either. she was better than most people ivory had known, and she knew she wouldn’t be furious. maybe disappointed. which was worse. but not scary.

as rhett began to speak into the phone, low and serious, ivory’s fingers gripped a little around the frayed strap of her purse, and she looked away toward the door. the sky had gone paler now, the morning inching on toward full sun. somewhere out in the distance, a truck passed. and the world kept turning.

she heard the car before she saw it, that low engine purr gliding smooth over gravel, tires crunching through dust with a kind of grace that didn’t belong in a place like this, too sleek, too polished, too red against the pale desaturated backdrop of the gas station lot. jodie burke pulled up in the coupe vernon had bought her two winters ago, the one that smelled of new leather and lilac-scented lotion inside, the one she never let anyone else drive. sunlight hit the hood just right, catching the chrome trim and making it glint, too clean for this side of sierra valley, too pretty for the dirt that clung to everything else.

the door swung open with a smooth hiss and ivory watched as jodie stepped out, a blur of long limbs and effortless glamour even in denim and a tucked blouse. she wore her hair down today, chestnut tresses grazing her shoulders, and her eyes, vivid and unreal green, scanned the station in one sweep before landing on ivory with a softness that never really went away. she wasn’t angry. she didn’t even look irritated. and she didn’t rush toward her with the frantic step of a woman furious with a stepdaughter. no, she walked calm and slow, posture perfect, all fluid composure, as if this were just some casual social call. the sunlight caught on the small diamond studs in her ears, and her lips, glossed with something nude and expensive, were curled into the slightest expression of concern.

“morning, ivory,” she said lightly, as if nothing was out of place at all. “rhett called me, said something about cigarettes? what in the world’s going on?”

ivory opened her mouth, heart l rabbiting inside her ribs, but rhett stepped forward from behind the counter before she could speak. “she tried to walk out with a bunch of them,” he said gruffly, tossing his hand toward the stack of cartons still laid out where he’d thrown them. “went behind the counter while i was in back and stuffed them in her bag. then strolled to the damn door like i wasn’t gonna notice.”

“i did not stroll…” ivory started, cheeks burning, her voice weak with protest, but rhett snapped a glare at her.

“don’t interrupt,” he bit. “you don’t get to play innocent now.”

jodie’s gaze lingered on the cartons, then went to ivory, brow raised just slightly, but not in judgment, but puzzlement.

“she doesn’t smoke,” jodie said flatly, folding her arms in that casual, precise way she always did when trying to make sense of someone. “she won’t even stand too close to someone who does. always says it’ll ruin her skin.”

ivory made a small, exasperated noise. “i wasn’t gonna smoke them, i…”

“i don’t give a damn what she was gonna do with them,” rhett cut her off again, harder now, voice rising with all the aggravation he’d kept bottled since she first set foot in his store that morning. “i can’t let this kind of bullshit slide. she walks in here with her little games, thinks because her daddy runs half the valley and her stepmom used to be miss nevada, she’s untouchable. well, she ain’t.”

jodie angled her head, as if she’d heard this before but hadn’t expected it to come from rhett’s mouth. “i’ll pay for the cartons,” she said after a pause, tone cool, almost diplomatic, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve. “tell me how much.”

rhett shook his head, short and sharp. “no. that ain’t the point. she don’t get to walk outta here without a single scrape ’cause you’ve got the wallet for it. that’s not a lesson. that’s a damn vacation.”

ivory felt her pulse spike again. she hated this, hated how cordial jodie stayed, how rhett’s voice kept ringing in the fluorescent-lit space with no one to stop him. “it was stupid, alright?” she blurted, stepping forward. “i know it was stupid, you don’t have to act like i set the place on fire…”

“shut up,” rhett barked, pointing a finger at her without even looking. “you’re lucky i didn’t call sheriff burke. you’re lucky all i did was call her.”

ivory went rigid, jaw clenched, eyes hot with fury she didn’t dare unleash fully. she didn’t cry. never in front of people. not even when she fell off the hayloft when she was eight and split her arm open clean to the bone. she wasn’t gonna cry now, not for this, not for rhett carver and his self-righteous drawl and his cheap shelves and his goddamn cartons of menthols she didn’t even want.

jodie’s voice came calm and clear after a moment of silence. “what if she worked it off?”

both ivory and rhett turned toward her.

“what?” ivory said sharply, as if she’d misheard. jodie smiled.

“at the diner,” she continued, as composed as ever. “she works for you. two weeks. covers the cost. you get your lesson. she gets hers. fair trade.”

rhett looked her up and down, one dark brow lifting. he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, then nodded slowly. “that ain’t a bad idea,” he said, and there was something in his voice, almost satisfaction. “hell. it’s fair.”

ivory could barely breathe. “you’re kidding.”

jodie didn’t answer her. she just turned toward the door, purse swinging from her wrist. “come on,” she said, like this was all settled. “we’ll talk about it in the car.”

rhett didn’t say goodbye. he stood there, arms crossed, watching her as she followed jodie out, boots scuffing the tile, shoulders stiff with disbelief. she didn’t look back. she didn’t want to see the smug expression he probably wore. she only heard the low jangle of the bell again as the door swung shut behind her.

outside, the sun was sharp and glaring, and the heat climbed up through her boots and into her bones. jodie clicked the car open and slid into the driver’s side, already adjusting the mirror like this was any other thursday morning.

ivory climbed in beside her, arms crossed tight, face turned to the window. she didn’t speak.

jodie finally glanced over, that same easy smile tugging at her mouth, her lipstick catching the light.

“you’ll like it at the diner,” she said in that honeyed, unbothered way of hers, starting the car. “won’t you? some of your friends already work there. lucy does. carrie too.”

ivory stared straight ahead, lips pressed into a flat, bloodless line. the car pulled out of the lot, smooth as ever, red paint gleaming in the sun.

“you’ll do just fine,” jodie added, voice too bright for the trouble of ivory’s silence. “and it’ll give you something to do this summer.”

ivory slumped further in the seat. “this is punishment.”

“this is real life,” jodie said, easing into the road. “you’ll be fine.”

ivory leaned her forehead against the window and muttered something foul under her breath as the red car sped off into the sunlit valley.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the house smelled of sautéed onions and rosemary, warm and thick and heavy in the air, clinging to the corners of the rooms in the way supper smells always did when jodie was in the kitchen, moving through the space with those sure, precise motions that came from years of making meals for people she loved, for men who came home sunburned and quiet, for children who never quite stayed young long enough. the radio played low in the background, some soft country croon that barely rose above the pop and hiss of the skillet. jodie stood barefoot on the old tile, wearing one of vernon’s flannels rolled at the sleeves, the buttons loose over her faded jeans. her hair was pinned up in that effortless twist she always managed, a few strands brushing down her temple as she stirred the pan with a wooden spoon, the window above the sink open to let in the warm breeze off the hills.

vernon sat in the living room, book cracked open in his lap, glasses low on his nose. he wasn’t reading so much as pretending to. his eyes kept straying toward the doorway that led to the kitchen, then to ivory where she sulked across from him, curled into the corner of the couch with her knees drawn up and a throw blanket over her bare legs despite the heat. the air conditioner hummed gently, too old to be efficient, but loud enough to fill the space.

he hadn’t said much since they got home. only nodded when jodie relayed the story, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and muttered something about “that damn rhett carver never did learn any manners.” he hadn’t been mad, not really. not at ivory. he knew his daughter, knew her temper, knew her stubborn streak, knew the way she’d get restless sometimes, hungry for something she couldn’t name, couldn’t hold in her hands. he hadn’t liked the idea of her working for rhett, not one bit. but he hadn’t said no either. not when jodie looked at him that way, calm and certain, the peacemaker as always. although, he’d muttered under his breath all through setting the table, and his lack of monologue now was more protest than peace.

“he talks to me like i’m some spoiled brat,” ivory mumbled again, voice low but edged. “i mean, yeah, maybe i took something, but it’s not like i was gonna keep it. i don’t even smoke.”

vernon glanced at her over the rim of his glasses. “you gonna repeat that again or are we supposed to keep listening forever?”

she pulled the blanket higher and sank deeper into the cushions.

jodie laughed gently in the kitchen. “you know she’s venting,” she said, the wooden spoon tapping against the skillet rim. “let her.”

ivory didn’t respond. her eyes were on the ceiling now, arms crossed, mouth set in that defiant pout she’d worn since they got home. the purse sat forgotten at her feet, empty again, and her boots had been kicked off somewhere by the door. her hair was tied back now, a little neater than earlier but tousled, and she’d wiped off what was left of the smeared makeup. she felt bare in a way she hated, and the house, despite its softness, felt full of unspoken things.

then came the doorbell.

it rang once, low and solid, the sound echoing through the foyer. vernon didn’t move. jodie wiped her hands on a towel and stepped lightly across the wood floor, the hem of her flannel brushing her thighs. ivory sat up slightly, brow furrowing.

the door opened with a soft creak.

“well, look who it is,” jodie said, and her voice rose just slightly, touched with something warm.

ivory craned her neck, already knowing.

sheriff jack burke stepped in, the early evening sun framing him from behind like some old western postcard. his silhouette cut through the gold light, broad-shouldered and clean-postured, the badge gone from his chest but the weight of it still in how he moved. his uniform shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the tan fabric rolled at the sleeves, revealing strong forearms dusted in sun and speckled with the faint marks of fieldwork. his hair was golden brown, a few shades lighter than jodie’s, but they shared the same bone structure, the same proud line of the jaw, the same laugh tucked into the corners of their eyes. his own eyes were a forest green, the kind that caught details whether you wanted them caught or not.

he stepped over the threshold and took his hat off, that old beat-up thing he always wore, holding it against his side like a gentleman. he extended a nod toward vernon, who raised two fingers from the page in acknowledgment.

“jack,” vernon said. “you’re early. or late. dependin’ what you’re here for.”

“just on time,” jack replied, grinning faintly as he stepped inside. his eyes landed on ivory, and his grin widened. “well, well. what’s the matter with you?”

ivory huffed and sat up straighter. “rhett carver had a damn fit over nothing.”

jodie gave her a look, more amused than reproachful. “language.”

“he did,” ivory insisted, folding her arms. “i was…” she hesitated. “…i was bored. i grabbed a few things. i was gonna put them back. but he acted like i burned his gas station down.”

jack snorted and leaned one hand against the doorframe. “rhett carver ain’t been right since the accident. too rigid for his own good. man’s got no humor in him. especially for someone i’ve had to haul in twice for driving drunk and once for nearly running down a mailbox.”

ivory blinked. “wait, seriously?”

“reckless,” jack said, shaking his head, “and mouthy. always has been. never could take a joke.”

that did make her laugh, a breathy sound she hadn’t let out all day. vernon’s mouth twitched behind his book. jodie glanced back toward the kitchen, stirring something again but listening closely.

jack turned toward his sister. “you makin’ dinner or conducting a symphony over there?”

“a bit of both,” jodie replied without turning around. “you want to stay? we’ve got plenty.”

jack rubbed the back of his neck, his hat still in hand. “appreciate it, jodie. but i’m here for something else.”

she paused at that, briefly. the wooden spoon stopped its movement.

ivory straightened up more slowly. vernon lowered his book half an inch.

there was a pause before jack spoke again, the kind of reluctance thick with unspoken thoughts. he stood steady in the archway, one hand holding the brim of his hat, the other resting against his belt like he hadn’t quite meant for the question to land as plainly as it had, but it had. his voice was calm when he said it, maybe even a touch amused, but the words themselves weren’t ones to be mistaken or shrugged off.

“i was thinkin’,” jack said, eyes on vernon now, “maybe i take ivory out for a spell. nothing fancy. out and about a while.”

vernon lowered the book proper now, let it rest across his thigh, one thick brow lifting over the rim of his glasses. he glanced at jodie, who was already smiling in that familiar, patient way that always meant she knew something before it happened. she stirred the pot once more, then turned and leaned back against the counter, arms folded, her expression unreadable but warm.

“you’re askin’ to take her on a date?” vernon said, no malice in it.

jack gave a half-smile, his teeth white against his tanned skin. “figured it’d cheer her up.”

ivory’s heart kicked in her chest, not panic this time, but something startled and vaguely electric. she sat up straighter without meaning to, eyes darting between her father and the sheriff. jack burke had always had that kind of ease about him, the stable confidence of a man who could handle a fight without ever starting one. and he wasn’t old. not too old. not in any way that mattered. women around town never stopped talking about him, the way he wore his badge, the way he talked slow and deep, the way his eyes always seemed to be smiling even when his mouth wasn’t. carrie had once whispered she’d marry him in a second if she could, and even brenda, who despised most men, admitted he was probably the finest-looking one in town.

vernon didn’t speak right away. he scratched his jaw, then reached for his glasses and pulled them off with a sigh. “she’s nineteen years old,” he said.

“i know,” jack replied.

“she’s my daughter,” vernon added.

jack nodded again. “i know that too.”

a longer pause. then, jodie said, “she could use a reason to smile, vernon. you know that.”

vernon exhaled slow. stared across the room at ivory, who met his gaze full-on this time. her face was unreadable for once, no frown, no fire, but wide-eyed, waiting. he studied her a moment, the shape of her mother in her eyes, the stubborn in her chin, and all that dark beauty.

“you bring her back at a decent hour,” vernon said at last, voice low but not unkind. “or else i’ll be gettin’ my own damn gun.”

jack smiled, wider now. “understood, sir.”

ivory broke into a grin, the first real one all day. she scrambled to her feet, blanket falling from her lap, and looked toward the hallway.

“go on then,” jodie said, shooing her gently with a flick of her wrist, already laughing. “you’ve got ten minutes or i’ll tell him to pick a better behaved girl.”

ivory didn’t need telling twice.

she nearly ran to her room, feet skimming the hardwood, heart thudding in her ribs like something untethered. her room was warm with late-day light, casting shadows against the walls where her dresses hung in crooked rows. she moved fast, faster than she had all week. the white dress came off the hook easy, cotton with a soft off-shoulder cut that grazed the tops of her arms just right and cinched at the waist with that brown-gold belt she’d bought months ago and never worn. her boots were dark and polished, heeled enough to make her stand taller, and she slipped into them with practiced ease. her hair she half-pinned back, letting the rest fall in dark waves down her back, some strands tucked, others trailing soft along her cheekbones. her skin still held that pink glow from the sun, and she touched up the corners of her eyes with a dust of gold shimmer, cleaned the last smudge of berry gloss that lingered on her lips and reapplied something clearer, glossier, more careful. a little perfume at the neck. two gold bangles. the dainty necklace she rarely took off, resting against her collarbone, warm to the touch.

the mirror told her what she needed to know. she didn’t look sorry anymore. she looked alive.

outside, the sun was dipping lower, casting long shadows across the gravel. jack stood leaning against his car, one of those older models, tawny and built solid, engine ticking. he saw her the moment she stepped through the door, and straightened up.

she came down the steps with slow, measured steps, the breeze catching the hem of her dress.

“well, hell,” he said, pulling his hat off again and letting it hang at his side. “you clean up nice.”

she smiled, tried not to show all her teeth, though it spread easy across her face. “thanks.”

he opened the passenger door for her and stepped back. she climbed in without hesitation, the seat comfortable beneath her legs, the smell of his cologne in the cab, clean and sharp with a hint of cedar.

he closed the door after her, not with force, but firm.

a minute later, the engine growled to life, the wheels rolled over gravel, and they were off. ivory leaned back into the seat, dress gathered in her lap, pulse calm now, but quickened all the same. the world beyond the window blurred gold and green and quiet, and the last thing she saw before they turned out of the drive was her father standing on the porch, arms crossed, watching them go. not angry, but watching.

the windows were rolled halfway down, enough for the wind to sweep softly through the cab, warm and thick with the smell of dry grass and summer dust. twilight had begun to lay itself over the land in thin strips of gold and lavender, stretching shadows long across the hills, wrapping the road in that peculiar hush that only seemed to fall over the valley right before night claimed it. the cicadas had started up in the cottonwoods, and jack’s car moved steady along the backroads, its old engine purring smooth beneath their silence.

ivory sat back against the leather, her fingers trailing along the lace of her dress where it met her thigh. her bare shoulder caught the last light as they passed an open field, and the fine golden hairs there glowed faintly, her skin soft against the wind. she glanced over at him, his strong profile framed against the windshield glow, hands steady on the wheel, jaw relaxed but watchful, the way it always was.

she leaned in, slow and steady, not rushed, not coy. her lips brushed the stubbled curve of his cheek, warm and sun-damp from the day, skin rough with the scrape of a man who hadn’t shaved in a while but somehow made it look right. she wavered a second before pulling back.

he turned, a crooked smile pulling at the edge of his mouth. “was that for good behavior or just to distract me so you can steal the car?”

“maybe both,” she said, grinning.

he shook his head, smiling, and tapped the steering wheel once with the flat of his palm. “truth be told, darlin’, i’ve arrested murderers and meth heads and once had to drag a drunk outta the river at two a.m. in january, but askin’ your daddy if i could take you out? that’s the thing that damn near gave me a heart attack.”

ivory laughed, full and breathy, letting her head fall back against the seat. “well, you’re not wrong. most people are terrified of him.”

“respectfully terrified,” jack corrected, nodding once. “man’s never been anything but straight with me. but he’s protective. everyone knows that. can’t blame him, though. hell, any man would be the same if he had a daughter who looked like you.”

she flushed at that, but didn’t shy away. instead, she stretched her legs, boots tapping gently against the glove compartment. “he hates church people too,” she added offhandedly. “one time, i almost went with marlene to that baptist place off main, and he told me flat out i could find another ride home if i walked through their doors.”

jack barked a laugh, hand lifting to sweep back his hair. “that sounds about right. i remember him refusin’ to stand during the prayer at a council meetin’ a few years back. he sat there, arms crossed. didn’t flinch when the room spared him some harsh glares.”

“he says faith’s a crutch for people who don’t wanna think,” ivory murmured, eyes distant now, watching the farmland roll past them. “but he also says god’s not gonna pay our taxes, so.”

“the man’s practical,” jack mused.

“he never thinks he’s wrong,” ivory said, soft but not without affection.

jack smiled again, this time with a glint of memory. “so,” he said, glancing toward her, “where do you wanna go?”

she didn’t answer at first. she just let her lack of response hang for a second, lips pressing into a faint smirk before she said, “larkspur diner.”

he blinked, looked over. “you serious?”

she nodded, slow and smooth. “yes.”

“after what happened this mornin’?”

she shrugged. “rhett doesn’t scare me.”

jack chuckled, low in his chest. “you’ve got guts. or no sense at all.”

“he’s mean because he hasn’t gotten laid in a while,” she said plainly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

jack looked at her, eyes wide in mock offense. “well, that’s a theory.”

“it’s the only one,” she said, deadpan. “he walks around all stiff and brooding like he’s auditioning for a marlboro ad and snarls at anyone with a smile. it’s textbook repression.”

he laughed harder this time, the sound echoing against the closed windows. “i doubt that man’s got any trouble gettin’ company when he wants it. rhett carver’s rough, but he’s the town’s most tolerable bastard.”

“well, maybe,” ivory said, rolling her eyes, “but i don’t care.”

he glanced at her again, slower this time, his eyes lingering a breath longer than they had before. she didn’t look away. her dress fluttered from the breeze, and the golden glint of her necklace caught the last rays of sun as the car turned off the main road and headed toward town.

the larkspur sat warm in the belly of the town, its glow spilling onto the dust-coated sidewalk like a lantern hung in the dark. the neon buzzed against the early night, the color of dried blood where it blinked from the old sign in the window, letters worn to a soft haze from years of summer heat and winter storms. jack pulled into the lot with slow, practiced care, his arm resting out the window, the engine sighing as he cut it. the gravel crunched faintly beneath the tires, that familiar sound that ivory had heard all her life, there was no other lot in town that sounded quite the same. she recognized every crooked crack in the pavement, every patch of oil-stained dust. the larkspur diner had been there longer than most houses in sierra valley, longer than some family names, and it showed in the faded siding, the chipped linoleum visible through the double doors, and the rust-creased trim along the bottom windows where time had curled the metal upward like peeling bark.

he got out, then came around the front before she could reach for the handle herself. he opened the passenger door for her with a subtle, old-fashioned ease, something he hadn’t learned but had been born into, part of that burke bloodline, the kind of man who held doors and remembered names and never sat before a lady. ivory stepped out, her boots tapping soft against the ground, dress falling smooth over her thighs. the breeze caught it, lifted the hem enough for her to tug it back with a careful motion. jack closed the door behind her without a word and they walked side by side toward the entrance.

inside, the air shifted from warm to warmer, kitchen heat, coffee steam, the scent of fried potatoes and grilled onions clinging to every surface. the bell over the door gave a sharp ring, one she remembered from her childhood, from the first time she sat at the counter and ordered a strawberry milkshake that came melted and too sweet but perfect all the same. tonight, the place was alive in that slow, rural way, half-filled booths, families tired from the week, two mechanics from the service station elbow-deep in plates of meatloaf, a high school couple sharing fries across the table with their legs tangled beneath it.

then, from behind the counter, a flash of copper.

lucy sutton turned at the sound of the bell and caught sight of them at once. her face lit up in that sudden way only lucy’s could, all her emotions worn plain and bright across that pretty, sharp-boned face of hers. she had a towel in one hand and a receipt book in the other, and she abandoned both as she stepped out from behind the register.

“well, look what the damn wind dragged in,” she said, brushing her hair behind one ear, ponytail swinging. “ivory sinclair in the flesh. and sheriff burke on her arm? it must be a full moon!”

ivory laughed before she could stop herself. lucy always had that effect on people, disarming, warm, impossible to stay stiff around. “it’s not what it looks like,” she said, already reaching for a swift hug.

lucy’s grip was tighter than expected, her small frame stronger than it looked, and when she pulled back her hazel eyes drifted between them with quiet mischief. “you mean to tell me the sheriff didn’t finally come to his senses and ask out the prettiest girl in town?”

“well,” jack said, shrugging, “i guess i did.”

lucy looked mock-offended. “that wasn’t your cue to confirm it, jack.”

he smirked and gave her a subtle two-fingered salute.

“c’mon, booth by the window’s free.” she turned without waiting and grabbed two menus from the counter. “i’ll try to seat you where the fryers don’t scream too loud.”

they followed her to the back corner, the booth just under the wide pane window that looked out onto the street. the cushion seats were sun-faded and the laminate table bore the rings of years-old spilled coffee, but it was cozy and familiar, the kind of place where everything stayed mostly the same. lucy handed them the menus but didn’t leave right away.

“so seriously,” she said, leaning one hip against the booth’s edge, eyes narrowing. “rhett’s been in one of his moods. came in griping earlier about ‘ivory sinclair this’ and ‘ivory sinclair that,’ said she was gonna be workin’ here by next week. sounded real proud of himself, like he’d won a bet.”

ivory rolled her eyes and slumped slightly in the booth. “he’s a jackass.”

lucy grinned. “yeah, but he runs this place. can’t say it too loud or the lights will start sparking in protest.”

jack chuckled, easing into the other side of the booth, one arm over the top, posture relaxed.

lucy glanced at him. “are you keeping nate in check for me, or has he gotten himself in trouble again?”

“he’s fine,” jack said dryly. “only had to write him up once last month. he’s got a good head on his shoulders, at least when he’s not distracted.”

ivory’s smile faltered but recovered. she remembered the days before nate had become lucy’s. he’d been tess’s boyfriend, back when they were sixteen and still thinking life happened in big, sweeping gestures. he’d been tess’s until a friday night party changed that, and then he was lucy’s. no one had really seen it coming, except ivory, maybe. and even then, she’d picked a side. she always had. and it had been lucy’s.

lucy gave a satisfied nod. “i’m the reason he’s got a good head. now, what do y’all want to drink?”

“strawberry lemonade,” ivory said. “and don’t give me that watery kind from the back. it’s disgusting.”

lucy scoffed. “i’m a waitress, not a miracle worker.”

“coffee for me,” jack added, drumming his fingers once on the table. “black. hot.”

“you get anything else, i’ll have to check if hell’s frozen,” lucy said, scribbling the order. “i’ll be back.”

she turned and walked off, sliding around a busboy with a half-cleared tray, disappearing through the swing doors near the kitchen, where the sound of sizzling oil echoed sharp.

jack tilted his head slightly and looked at ivory, one brow raised. “so.”

“so,” she repeated.

“you really gonna work here?”

she made a face, turned her gold bracelet absently with her thumb. “apparently.”

“and rhett agreed to it?”

“he was pleased by it, in fact.”

“hm.”

they sat a moment. the low murmur of the diner around them, the buzz of the old fluorescent above.

ivory leaned back and smiled without humor. “he’s mad as hell. but he’ll get over it. he always does.”

jack shrugged. “he’s a bastard, but he’s fair.”

“well,” ivory muttered, “then he needs to do better with his attitude.”

the laughter lingered. not loud, but full. the night outside darkened against the windows, the town dim under a sky thick with stars, and inside the larkspur, ivory sinclair sat across from the town sheriff, knowing full well that by tomorrow morning, everyone in sierra valley would know exactly where she’d been tonight. and she didn’t mind one damn bit.

lucy came back in with her usual flourish, the tray balanced on one palm like a dance prop, her hips swaying with the rhythm of the diner’s hum. the overhead light caught the copper tones in her hair as she slid their drinks onto the table, ivory’s lemonade, all pink frost and sliced citrus, and jack’s coffee, dark and steaming in the thick porcelain mug with a crack down one side that had been there since last summer. lucy’s eyes sparkled as she stepped back, pen already tucked between her fingers again, ready to jot down their orders with that quick, sure hand of hers.

“alright, let’s hear it,” she said. “and don’t make me stand here long. pete’s makin’ jokes back there and i think the hash browns are burnin’ in protest.”

jack answered first. “steak sandwich. fries. extra onions.”

lucy scribbled with a nod, not missing a beat. “sure thing, sheriff. onions’ll keep the girls at bay.”

he smirked and didn’t deny it. ivory kept her eyes on the menu but wasn’t reading.

“salad,” she said. “and a biscuit.”

lucy blinked. “a salad?”

“i’m not hungry.”

lucy clicked her tongue but didn’t argue. “i’ll bring the biscuit first, you’ll change your mind. be right back.”

then she was off, gliding back toward the kitchen, ponytail bouncing behind her, voice already rising in laughter at something called out from the cook line. the sound of a plate shattering rang out from the back and someone swore, but lucy’s voice rose louder, teasing, no-nonsense, the way she always was with the boys in the kitchen.

ivory sighed, her legs curled under her, the condensation from the lemonade cold against her palm. her shoulder brushed the window as she turned, eyes drifting across the familiar layout of the larkspur diner, the old counter with its cracked stools, the faded clippings of news articles on the wall, the jukebox blinking low in the corner playing something from thirty years ago. this place had never changed. not once.

but then she heard the sound. not the bell this time, not the door, but the scrape of the kitchen hinge opening, heavy and distinct, followed by the slow, deliberate rhythm of boots on tile. no one else in town walked like that. she knew it the way you knew a storm by the smell in the air before the clouds rolled in.

rhett carver walked in from the back hallway, the edges of his black button-up rolled to the elbows, dark with heat and work, the line of his jaw sharp, mouth set in that hard expression he always wore, etched deep from years of squinting through oil smoke and grease fumes and rage he never raised his voice to show. his hair was a little damp, curling at the nape from the back heat, and his hands were stained dark, calloused, scarred, roughing through the receipts stuffed in one palm as he passed behind the counter.

he glanced around, expression neutral until his eyes landed on ivory.

they narrowed.

without pausing, he walked toward the table, no hesitance in the way he moved, no glance at jack, no acknowledgment yet of the sheriff seated across from her. he came right up to the booth, arms crossed, his shadow stretching long across the checkered floor tiles.

“what the hell are you doin’ here?” he asked, voice low but strained with disbelief, and something else, something coiled tight.

ivory blinked slow, took a sip of her drink, let the pause stretch long enough to irritate.

“i’m on a date,” she said sweetly. “unless that’s not allowed either. do i need your permission to do anything now?”

his jaw twitched. “you think this is funny? strollin’ in here after what happened this mornin’? you’re supposed to be workin’ here, not makin’ it your goddamn hangout.”

“maybe i’m scoping out my workplace,” she replied, crossing her arms. “getting familiar. shouldn’t you be glad?”

he leaned closer, bracing one palm on the table edge. “you’ve got a lotta nerve.”

“so i’ve been told.”

that’s when jack moved.

he lifted his coffee, sipped once, then leaned slightly forward, his presence suddenly more tangible, more weight behind it. “rhett.”

rhett blinked, as if noticing him for the first time. he straightened slightly, eyes going toward the sheriff with a grunt of recognition.

“jack.”

“evenin’.”

rhett nodded, not deferential but acknowledging. then he turned a pointed look toward ivory. “you tell him what you pulled this mornin’? or just the bits that make you look innocent?”

ivory opened her mouth but jack cut in, tone mild, expression unreadable. “i heard enough.”

rhett scoffed. “figures.”

“i’ll make sure she suffers the consequences,” jack added, tone laced with something half-amused.

rhett didn’t laugh. “this ain’t a joke, sheriff. the girl waltzed behind my counter and grabbed five packs of smokes like it was a fuckin’ souvenir stand. can’t let shit like that slide.”

“i’m sure she knows that,” jack said calmly.

rhett’s eyes flicked back to her. “you best know it. ‘cause next time, i won’t be callin’ jodie. i’ll handle it myself. you understand?”

ivory rolled her eyes and stirred her lemonade with her straw. “sure thing, boss.”

“you’re startin’ next saturday. seven sharp. you better show up on time, wear the uniform, do everything i say and do it right. or i’ll take it up with mayor graves. and he owes me a favor, so you won’t like what that looks like.”

she stared up at him, jaw clenched. “whatever.”

rhett stood there another breath, then nodded once to jack, short, curt, never warm, and turned, walking back the way he came, his boots striking hard against the floor. the kitchen door swung shut behind him with a muted slam.

the absence he left behind was thick and uncomfortable. ivory exhaled slowly, stared down at her drink, the lemon slice already beginning to brown at the edges from the ice. her appetite, if she’d had one, was gone. she rubbed her fingers against the side of the glass, nails tapping slowly.

jack watched her, didn’t speak right away. his brow creased as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, coffee between them.

“you alright?”

she nodded, but didn’t speak. her lips pursed.

he let the silence stretch, not pushing her, but not looking away either.

she stared down at her lap. “i’m so tired of him thinking he owns this whole town.”

jack didn’t disagree. sumply said, “he’s been that way since before you were born. but he don’t own you.”

her fingers tightened around the glass.

lucy appeared a few seconds later with a biscuit in a little red basket, unaware of the exchange. “figured you’d want this early. they’re hot.”

ivory smiled, barely, but didn’t reach for it. her thoughts still sat back there, in rhett’s shadow, in the weight of his stare, in the sharpness of his voice. the booth didn’t feel as warm anymore. even the lemonade had gone dull.

the salad sat wilting in front of her, a pool of vinegar dressing collecting at the bottom of the plate, soaking the greens until they lost all texture, all color. ivory nudged a slice of tomato with the prong of her fork, not piercing it, just pushing it until it smeared a red mark across the ceramic. she’d eaten a single biscuit and drank half her lemonade out of boredom more than thirst. her appetite had dissolved somewhere between rhett’s words and the way jack hadn’t bothered to say a damn thing in her defense. not that she expected him to fight her battles. she didn’t. but somehow the lack of retort stung in a way the sharpest words wouldn’t have. jack had sat there unmoving, sipping his coffee with that unreadable expression, while rhett towered above her, throwing threats like stones.

now she just wanted to go home.

jack tossed a few bills on the table, the tip crisp beneath them. he didn’t ask if she wanted dessert or if she was finished. he just stood, slow and stiff, and she followed without speaking. the diner had emptied some. a few folks sat nursing coffee at the counter, and lucy gave her a small wave from where she was boxing leftovers. ivory didn’t wave back. she walked out into the warm summer dark with her shoulders squared, the taste of bitterness on her tongue thicker than the lemonade.

they got into the car, and jack said nothing.

he drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh, his jaw clenched, the tendons there sharp under the surface. the window was cracked and the scent of hot tar and distant hayfields drifted in through the gap. the road back home was familiar, lined with silhouettes of trees and cattle fencing and the occasional flicker of porchlight from homes tucked into the land. ivory kept her arms crossed. her face was turned toward the glass, the reflection of herself faint, caught between the road and her own scowl.

eventually, jack spoke.

finally, he said, “you know, you shouldn’t let that man crawl under your skin like that.”

his voice cut through the air. flat. a little tired. no anger, but no kindness either.

ivory blinked slowly and turned her head, her voice brittle when she answered. “oh, i’m sorry, were you planning on defending me in there or just sipping your coffee while i got talked down to like i’m twelve?”

jack exhaled hard through his nose. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“don’t turn it around. i wasn’t the one who walked into his place after stealing from him.”

she laughed, dry, humorless. “oh, that’s what we’re calling it now? stealing?”

“ivory…”

“it was cigarettes. i wasn’t gonna smoke them. i wasn’t even going keep them! it was nothing. but he acts like i broke into a damn church and stole the altar.”

“you were behind the counter,” jack said, his voice stressed now. “you were taking product you didn’t pay for. you tell me what the hell that is if it ain’t stealing.”

she leaned hard against the door, her head turned back toward the dark window. her voice was colder now. “you know, for someone who said he wanted to take me out to feel better, you’re real good at makin’ me feel worse.”

“i’m not trying to make you feel worse. i’m trying to give you a damn reality check.”

“yeah? well maybe i didn’t ask for one.”

he braked slightly as they reached a bend in the road, the red tail lights illuminating the thick dust stirred behind them. his hands gripped the wheel tighter.

“look,” he said, “you’re about to start working for a man who doesn’t like you. who already thinks you’re a spoiled brat who gets whatever she wants. don’t prove him right.”

she turned sharply toward him, her gold jewelry catching the dashboard light. “you really think that’s what this is? that i’m some spoiled brat out for attention?”

“i didn’t say that…”

“but you didn’t say the opposite either.”

jack said nothing. his knuckles whitened around the steering wheel.

“god,” ivory muttered, sinking into the seat. “you’re just like everyone else in this town. maybe a little smoother about it, but just the same. always so ready to decide who i am without ever asking.”

his voice was lower now. not cold, but steady. “i’ve known you since you were a child. you think i haven’t seen the way you walk into a room? you think i haven’t seen the way people look at you, the way you use it?”

“i don’t use anything,” she spat. “i exist. that’s all. and somehow that’s enough to make everyone mad.”

he didn’t respond.

“and you sat there tonight,” she went on, “sat there while he threatened me in front of the whole diner. called me out like i was nothing. and you didn’t say a goddamn word.”

“you want me to go to war over you takin’ five packs of smokes?” jack snapped suddenly, his voice raising for the first time all evening. “you want me to throw fists in a town where i’m the one supposed to be keeping order?”

“no,” she said, her voice tight. “i wanted you to act like you gave a damn.”

he didn’t speak after that. the air between them hardened. nothing moved but the road beneath the tires. no music. no hum of life. merely the engine and the wind and the shared, burning silence of two people suddenly aware of the space between them.

they reached the sinclair property a few minutes after ten. the house looked peaceful under the moonlight, porch lit golden and serene, the fields beyond it beautiful and soft. jack pulled up without ceremony. the tires crunched to a stop. he didn’t say a word. he didn’t even glance at her.

ivory opened the door and stepped out slowly, boots crunching on the dry earth. she stood beside the car for a moment, one hand still resting on the edge of the open door, waiting for something, an apology, a farewell, some remnant of the man who had once asked her out with a softness in his voice. but he didn’t even shift.

he watched the road ahead.

she slammed the door.

he drove off before she’d reached the porch, taillights trailing down the dirt path like two burning coals, swallowed by the trees.

ivory stood there a minute longer, her arms folded over her stomach, the air thick with summer heat and dust. then she turned and climbed the porch steps, her boots thudding heavier with each one.

the screen door creaked open. the house smelled of rosemary and heat. inside, the living room was dim. her father was asleep in the recliner, his mouth somewhat open, his hand draped over the book resting on his chest. the lamp beside him flickered faint, casting long shadows across the floor. the fan above turned slow, rhythmic, the blades whining with every rotation.

past the threshold of the hallway, in the glow of the kitchen, stood jodie.

she was dressed in her robe, the pale cotton loose at the waist, a mug held loosely in both hands. her green eyes were lined with tiredness, but she didn’t look surprised to see ivory. she never did. she always waited up when she could. her chestnut hair had fallen out of its earlier style and was swept over one shoulder now, and she looked more woman than wife at that moment, older, sadder, but unbreakable.

“you’re home early,” she said softly.

ivory’s hands curled at her sides, her jaw set tight.

“did you have a nice time?” jodie asked.

ivory stared at her, heat prickling behind her eyes, the sting of the entire night catching up to her all at once.

“to hell with your brother,” she bit out.

then she stormed down the hallway, boots loud against the hardwood, bracelets jingling with the sharp rhythm of her stride. her bedroom door slammed with the kind of force she hadn’t used in years, echoing down the narrow hall and shaking a picture frame on the wall outside.

jodie stood in the kitchen a second longer, staring at the hallway as if trying to see through it. she exhaled and sipped the tea that had long gone cold. then she turned, poured it down the drain, and began washing the dishes still sitting from dinner, the sink water running louder than it needed to in the quiet house. frustration tugged at the corners of her mouth.

the bedroom door opened fast, then shut behind ivory even faster.

inside, her room was everything the rest of the house wasn’t, paler in hue, more lavish in design, touched with little things her father had let jodie pick out for her after she turned sixteen. silk curtains, white sheets, antique vanity with a mirror from jodie’s pageant days. her perfume bottles lined the shelf like weapons. gold and silver chains spilled across the dresser. everything was polished and untouched. she threw her purse on the bed, kicked off her boots, pulled the pins from her hair one by one, and stood in front of the mirror, watching herself breathe.

her face was tired. her lipstick smudged. her expression unreadable even to her.

to hell with jack.

to hell with rhett.

to hell with this whole goddamn town.

#original story #writing #pedro pascal #rhett carver #ivory sinclair #pale fire country

12 notes · View notes

thw-underthehood · 4 months ago

Text

Little Tidbits

by Grace C.

Long ago, before this project was officially formed into what it is now, I used to write down whatever came to my head when it came to Team Hot Wheels.

Honestly, it was like warming up before a big race, except instead of doing jumping jacks and push-ups, I'd be writing little tidbits of dialogue and lore here and there, just to get a better feel for the world and characters I was writing.

I stopped after a while, due to toxic perfectionism.

However, I've recently been encouraged by witnessing a fan (@viewer-of-many) write little tidbits of their own regarding our story!

It has behooved me to share some of my early work for Team Hot Wheels,

This post goes out to them, as a thank you.

(Warning: This post is SUPER long, so just be careful before you click that "Keep reading" tab!)

P.S - We as a Team DO NOT consent to our writing being fed to AI machines for ANY reason. Thank you for your understanding!

Wh: (walking in through the door, looking a bit frazzled) I’m back! (holds up the grocery bag) -and I got the mustard!

Wy: HOO WEE! FINALLY! (motioning for the bag) Could ya toss it over here, Willy? Gammy’s baked beans jus’ ain’t the same without it.

G: (full-on disgust) You put mustard on baked beans? Who even are you?

Wy: Someone with TASTE, unlike you, GAGE!

B: No, Rhett. You can’t use your Imaginating to make yourself a bearded mermaid girlfriend.

R: Why not?

B: Because that would be weird? …and wrong? …and probably against some sort of law?

R: What kind of law?

B: (borderline indignant) I… don’t know, a law of nature! All I know is that is a terrible idea. Your physical creations always seem to make a mess of things anyway. It wouldn’t do any good.

R: Well can I-

B: No.

R: What about-

B: No!

R: But what if I-

B: NO!

R: (mocking Brandon) No.

B: YES! (catches himself) Wait what?

(Wheelie turns the corner, monkey wrench raised, ready to be brought down on the shadowy figure. But just as she does so, the figure turns around into the dim light to reveal… a very surprised looking Rhett. Wheelie manages to catch herself before she can assault her friend and yelps in surprise.)

Wh: (dropping the wrench) AH, Rhett!

R: (clutching his blanket in shock) AH, Wheelie!

Wh: Rhett~! (sighs and facepalms) What are you doing up?! It’s, like, THREE in the morning!

R: (avoiding her question) Well, what are you doing up?

Wh: (maternal) Rhett, are you having trouble sleeping?

(Rhett fidgets with his blanket a bit before he nods and bows his head in shame.)

Wh: (relief) Oh thank goodness, I thought I was one only one. (pats Rhett on back and pushes him along) C’mon, then.

R: Wait, where are we going?

Wh: Kitchen. (heads down the hall) If there’s one thing that can cure insomnia, it’s food. Besides, if it doesn’t work, we’ll have killed some time and stopped our hunger. Perfect solution!

R: Dude, you gotta learn how to slow down and smell the roses for a bit, you know?

G: Rhett, buddy, you know I can’t “do” slow. Never have, never will.

R: Well, what are you gonna do for Larry’s test then?

G: Oh, that’s easy. I’ll go to the one person who can loophole her way out of anything.

—--------------------------------

Wh: No.

(We’re at Wheelie’s house now, in her room to be exact. Gage is sitting in her rollie-chair, backwards, while Wheelie’s on her bed, crisscross.)

G: Wheelie, please, you know better than anyone I can’t just-

Wh: -sit still in one place for more than fifteen minutes?

G: -NOT be fast!

Wh: Gage, it’s a simple assignment!

(Gage scoffs.)

Wh: I didn’t say it was easy!

(Wheelie goes into a very dramatic gasp when her eyes meet the sight of Yellow Lion on the couch in a comatose state.)

Wh: (indignant concern) WHAT… HAPPENED?!

R: (getting sushi from the mini-fridge and eating it as he talks) (mouth half full) Don’t worry, Wheelie, he’s not dead! Wyatt just accidentally knocked himself unconscious trying to save the mayor today.

Wh: Is that supposed to make me feel BETTER?!

G: Wheels, relax, Brandon scanned him a little earlier, not a fracture in sight. Man’s head’s so hard he probably doesn’t even need his helmet.

Wh: (grabbing her cousin by the shoulders) This is SERIOUS, Gage. He could have some significant brain damage!

G: (pulling away from his cousin’s grasp) (real sly-like tone) Well, I mean, you’d kinda need a brain to damage in the first place…

(Wheelie glares through her cousin’s soul.)

G: (catching on) Oh okay, fine, fine. I’m serious, I’m serious now.

B: Well, you know what they say! (finger guns) No pain, no brain!

(Wheelie stops rubbing her eye to look at Brandon with a puzzled expression.)

B: (realizing how terrible his pun was) (awkward) Y-you know, because your body can’t process pain without a cerebral corte- (stops trying and helps her up) -oh forget it.

Wh: Gage, I told you, it’s already settled. I’ll only be gone for the day.

G: Yeah, the day that just so happens to be OUR day. What’s Twin Day without your twin?!

Wh: (smiling) I’m not your twin.

G: (waving off the technicality) Twin-cousin.

Wh: Well, “twin-cousin”, what exactly did you do those four years I lived in another city?

G: Didn’t celebrate. (mock dramatic air) It was so sad.

(Wheelie rolls her eyes and continues to reorganize her stuff.)

G: (continuing) …and for the city’s cooking contest? The one that comes to town every year, the same boring way, with the same boring contestants, and the same boring judges, AND the same boring winner?

Wh: (waving her finger in Gage’s face) Eh, eh, EH! The whole reason I’m going is to support my Papa. Which means… (twirls her hand in a “I’m prompting you to catch on” way) new contestant, and new possible winner!

G: Okay then, what about the Team? If our cars get wrecked-

Wh: I ran it by Larry first. He said it’s okay as long as I’m willing to (makes air quotes with her fingers) “make to the Garage like a bee to honey” if an emergency arises.

(The Jump Truck lands from its jump with grace, leaving a dust cloud in its wake. Yellow Lion leaps out of his vehicle with pride and flaunts his near-perfect hair like a flag in the wind as he takes off his helmet.)

Wy: See, lil’ buddy? The trick is to do it with STYLE. That’s the way you impress a crowd!

B: (trying to get the dust out of his hair) Uh, sure, Wyatt… but-

Wy: (overly enthusiastic) But WHAT? There’s no buts when it comes to STYLE, ‘specially LION STYLE!

B: Well… okay, but-

(Wyatt shoots his friend a look.)

B: (correcting himself) I-I mean, however… don’t you think a couple of those jumps were a little unnecessary and overly dangerous?

Wy: Just a little? (rubs his helmet thoughtfully) I must be slippin’.

B: I’m just curious about this Renewer thing. I mean, I’m an avid recycler, so a machine that can renew any broken down material into something reusable sounds really cool to me.

(Wheelie rolls in, in the background, carrying what seems to be a box of delicate equipment. She’s humming to herself, not really invested in anything other than loading the box with some more equipment lying around.)

B: (continuing) I usually just use whatever junk comes my way in my inventions, but I’d love to find a good pile of parts and restore them, just so I have more materials for my future updates to the Quick n’ Sik.

G: Why don’t you just go to the Junkyard? There’s plenty of stuff there.

B: What junkyard?

(Wheelie drops the box of stuff she was holding and gasps, catching the boys' attention.)

Wh: (genuine shock) You’ve never been to the Junkyard?! In all your years of living here, not once?

B: (looks at Gage for backup) Uh... n-no?

(Gage steps in front of Brandon and addresses his cousin with casual smugness.)

G: Wheels, you know not everyone gets excited about rusty old car parts like you do.

Wh: (righteous indignation) The Junkyard more than just “rusty old car parts”! There’s SO MUCH good stuff in there people just throw away because it got an itty bitty dent or something.

G: Or, you know, it became a rusty old piece of junk?

Wh: (waving him off) Po-tato, Pota-to.

(The Quick n’ Sik rushes off the HotTrack and toward the mini-golf course. Blue is laser focused on the road ahead -which shouldn’t be the novelty that it is, but here we are- and Wheelie, in the passenger seat, is trying to crane her neck to look through the clear roof above.)

Wh: Where in the world did that thing go? (turns to Blue Guy) You can’t just hide when you’re a 40-foot mutant pigeon, right?

(Suddenly, the daylight seems to darken, causing the two to look up. Sure enough, the aforementioned pigeon has come back for revenge and dive bombs toward the car, causing the two to start screaming.

Blue punches it in response, barely avoiding the pigeon’s giant talons as it swoops downward to grab the pesky blue vehicle. The pigeon swoops back upward, readying to dive again. Wheelie, who is almost turned 180 degrees in her seat to keep her eyes on the giant avian, squints and bites her lip.)

Wh: (at Blue) I think she’s gonna try it again! We gotta lose her!

BG: (starts typing something on his dock, while driving) Okay, I think I have something. (theatrical) Activate MegaMegaphone! (presses button)

(The roof opens up and the passenger seat shoots into the sky, with Wheelie in it, yelling for dear life.)

BG: (panic) AH, WRONG BUTTON!

R: Hey guys! I finally found the invisible car!

B: (impatient) Rhett, I’ve already told you, there is NO invisible-

(Rhett seems to press a button on an imaginary car key in his hand, causing a very real car locking sound to occur and everyone to jump.)

R: (rubbing his chin thoughtfully) (to himself) Hm, no, that’s not the right button. (to his teammates, dead serious) I can see why our boss scrapped this one, this is a terrible idea for a car. (back to himself) Where’s the door opener button? (pushes another button)

(There is the sound of something swinging open, followed by a sound of metal against flesh. We woosh over to Wheelie, who seems to be smushed up against something we can’t see, rather painfully. She produces a sound similar to a muffled and angry duck, before slowly sliding downward to collapse on the floor, leaving a floating smudge where a window should be.)

Wh: (in pain) Ow.

(Everyone else turns to look at Rhett.)

R: (guilty) Oh, hehe... There it is.

(Brandon and the security guard watch from the tree as Wheelie and Wyatt corral the thing into a corner of the campgrounds.)

Security guard: (whistles in amazement) Those are some crazy friends you got there.

B: Yeah… they are crazy.

(Wyatt bench presses an entire crate of assorted fruits before chucking it at the metal monstrosity. The thing takes the crate head on and starts to angrily charge at Wyatt, but not before it’s tripped up by a tripwire set by Wheelie.)

B: (at the guard) Aren’t you going to go help them?

Security guard: Me? Kid, I get paid to stand out here and stare down folks who get too close to me.

(The monster -now covered in smushed up fruit- tries to run away but is tackled by both Wheelie and Wyatt before he gets the chance. Wyatt holds the poor thing down as Wheelie takes her tripwire and makes quick work of tying the monster down, subduing it for now.)

Security guard: (satisfied) Job well done.

/Focus on a shot of both Brandon and the security guard clinging their tree for dear life/

Security guard: …from me.

(We start with Brandon typing away on his laptop in his own Guy’s Place. He’s very focused at the moment, so focused in fact, that he doesn’t even seem to notice his garage door open and close. Nor does notice the looming shadow start creeping behind his back… slowly getting closer and closer until-)

/Cut to reveal Rhett Ruddington casually standing behind Brandon in his chair, watching him work/

(There’s a bit of awkward silence as Rhett continues to blankly stare at Brandon -who still hasn’t noticed Rhett- type away.)

R: (out of nowhere) How’s it hanging, bro?

(Brandon jumps with a frightened yelp, falling out of his chair and onto the ground, surprising Rhett in the process.)

B: (groans in pain) (mild annoyance) Rhett… what are you doing in my room?

R: (genuine) Well, what are you doing on the floor?

(Brandon just grimaces as he gets back up and onto his chair. Strangely enough, instead of producing any backhanded insults or salty comments, the nerd boy just goes back to typing. Rhett leans in, uncomfortably close to his face to watch him work. Brandon stops typing to shoot Rhett a “back away from me” look. Rhett doesn’t get the message and just smiles back.)

B: (sighs in defeat) Do you… want something?

R: (a little too loud, causing Brandon to cringe) (remembrance) Oh, yeah! I’m checking on you!

B: (rubbing his ear in pain) Why, exactly?

R: Wheelie asked me to. She said that since you’ve been in here for four consecutive hours without a bathroom break, you might need a distraction to remind you to take one.

Crys: Isn’t that our new neighbor?

(Brandon looks up from his laptop to squint around the room, searching for whoever his sister was talking about.)

Crys: (pointing behind him) …The girl in the rollerblades?

(Brandon turns around to see that there is a girl with slides at the front desk, who seems to be conversing with the librarian at the moment. She leans on the desk, turning around just enough so we can see the left of her face. Surprise, surprise, it’s none other than Wheilimena Mae White. The camera zooms to Brandon’s face as it falls into an expression of pure terror. He turns back around sharply and hides his face in one of the nearby books.)

Crys: (concern) What? …What’s the problem?

B: (squeaky and unconvincing) Nothing. That’s not her.

Crys: I’m certain that’s her. (surveys her brother’s reaction) You’re hiding. Why are you hiding?

B: (grumbly, low) I’m not hiding.

(Crys stares at Wheelie for a bit, then looks at her brother, who is currently avoiding her eyes. She then looks at Wheelie again, then Brandon. This goes on a couple times before Crys narrows her eyes, sets her elbow on the table and rests her chin in her hand neatly.)

Crys: (at Brandon) Well then, it shouldn’t concern you in the least that she’s headed right this way.

(We start off with a close up Gage’s face looking very focused. He looks left, then straight again, before narrowing his eyes and smiling.)

G: (challenging) You really think you’ll win this?

(The camera swoops over to Wheelie’s face, which seems to be facing Gage.)

Wh: (confident) Oh, I know I’ll win this.

(The camera swoops to Rhett, looking tense.)

R: C’mon, guys, can’t we just be nice about this?

/swoop back over to Gage/

G: Rhett, you know the rules. There can only be one.

/back to Wheelie/

Wh: …and that one is me.

/to Gage/

G: (bragging) I’m faster.

/split screen in half give Wheelie some bragging room/

Wh: I’m quicker on the draw.

/the line shifts to favor Gage’s perspective/

G: I’ve got longer arms.

/now Wheelie’s/

Wh: I’m closer.

(Rhett pulls apart the line between them to push both of the sides off screen and starts exclaiming: )

R: STOP! STOP! The suspense is killing me! Can one of you just grab the last pizza slice already?!

(We zoom out to see the three are sitting in a booth at a pizzeria, with an almost empty pizza tin in front of them. There’s only one single solitary slice left, and both Gage and Wheelie have their hands hovering over the tin, ready to claim it for themselves.)

B: Well, according to my calculations, it seems like Yellow will most likely win this one as well.

R: (narrows his eyes) (suspicious) That’s the third time you’ve said that today. (accusatory) HEY! How do we know you’re not running funny numbers?

(Rhett leans over Wheelie to peek over Brandon’s shoulder. Brandon holds his tablet close to his chest so Rhett can’t see the screen.)

B: (defensive and unconvincing) I’m not.

Wh: (waving Rhett down) Rhett don’t be silly. (looks at Brandon with stars in her eyes) B’s an honest guy. He’s not gonna twist numbers just to make Wyatt seem more impressive than he actually is. Right, B?

(Brandon can’t even find the words to lie right. The poor boy’s face changes from its normal pale “kid who only goes outside because his family forces him to” skin color to hot pink in a matter of seconds. Wheelie notices.)

Wh: (suspicious) …B?

(Wheelie lays down her bed, phone in hand, looking up at the ceiling.)

Wh: I thought you said the mayor’s parties were boring.

/cut to Gage on the other side, hopping from foot to foot as he peels off his socks with one hand and shoots them into what seems to be an almost overflowing pile of dirty laundry/

G: They are! Just… well, they’re less boring when there’s someone there to be bored with you, you know?

Wh: The ball is dedicated to Team Hot Wheels, Gage. Getting up on that stage with you all would be a tad bit suspicious to the general public, no?

G: (waving her off, despite the fact that she cannot see him) It’s a masquerade party, right? No one’s gonna know it’s you.

Wh: (sarcasm) Oh yeah, a fancy piece of plastic covering a third of my face is sure to make me unrecognizable.

G: (shrugs) Works with our helmets.

Wh: -and THAT is a miracle in and of itself. (muttering) Seriously, though, how does that work?

If you managed to read through ALL of that... congrats! Hopefully, you enjoyed what you read. I know I enjoyed writing it, way back then...

If you have questions you'd like to inquire about literally any of the tidbits above, I'd personally love to answer them! Ask away!

(Just make sure you ask this blog specifically and NOT our main Imaginators one, just in case your question you ask requires an answer that might contain future spoilers!)

#hot wheels #team hot wheels #team hot wheels imaginators #gage team hot wheels #rhett team hot wheels #wheelie team hot wheels #wyatt team hot wheels #brandon team hot wheels #old writing

9 notes · View notes

buttercreamdicks · 7 months ago

Text

Speaking of safety, where is the outcry for Rhett to publicly apologize for nearly beaning Link and one or more members of the crew?

#that's right i'm still not over dartgate #i'll never be over the way link gets shit constantly but anything rhett does is okay #i love to start fites on the internet #rhett hate #but also #snugglebabies #they are both just a baby really

10 notes · View notes

silens-oro · 1 month ago

Note

Hi Mish! I’ve read everything in your masterlist. Even the fics about characters from movies/shows I’ve never even seen because I love the way you write! I’m just starting to watch Outer Range because cowboy Lewis Pullman has been slicker than a slip n slide and the way you brought him to life changed me fundamentally 😅

I’m also super interested in your garden updates! I started a couple of planters this year but I don’t have any idea about what I’m actually doing so I’m hoping for the best and would like to live vicariously through your (hopeful) success. What have you planted so far? I have 2 cherry tomato plants and a jalapeño plant in the hopes of making a single batch of salsa if anything actually grows 😂

I can’t wait for the next Well Enough Alone update! You have me hooked and waiting in anticipation because how the hell is Hawk going to navigate through everything that was just dropped on her? 😭 I just want her and Pope to live happily ever after somewhere far away from his fucked up family but I know it’s not gonna happen because you like to see us suffer (I love you so much for that btw) 😭😭😭

First of all, thank you! Rhett is one of my faves because he’s so soft and is probably the only cowboy who isn’t an actual piece of shit (from experience) 💖💖💖💖

Most cherry tomato varieties are indeterminate so they’ll continue to give you tomatoes until the first freeze (if it does that where you are) as long as you prune and take care of them! They’re a little more work than the determinate varieties, but I get hundreds of cherry tomatoes every year from just a few plants!

I have so many things started from seed, and a few things actually growing in my beds rn:

Started from seed:

-Watermelon

-Cantaloupe

-4 cucumber varieties (to be started from seed this weekend)

-5 green bean varieties

-Pinto beans

-Cabbage

-Green leaf lettuce

-Thai chilis

In the beds already:

-4 tomato varieties

-3 bell pepper varieties

-Jalapeños

-Serranos

-Habaneros

-Celery

-Massive Martha pumpkins (in a grow bag and as an experiment since I’m limited on space from everything else. I’ve seen it done successfully, but I’ve never tried it myself.)

-Potatoes (in a few grow bags)

-Sweet potatoes (also in grow bags. It’s my first year planting them so fingers crossed)

-Corn (also in grow bags and doing surprisingly well)

Then I have a blackberry bush, raspberry bushes (the actual devil. Do not plant this in the ground. The people who owned the house before me planted it and it has taken over my front yard 😭), and a blueberry bush that I’ve inherited.

THEN I started a few verities of sunflowers from seed, bluebonnets, columbines, amaranths, and a few other types of flowers that I can’t remember off the top of my head back on Mother’s Day that are all sprouting, so I’ll have those around my yard this year along with some local pollinators I picked up from the nursery down the street from my house.

The irony of all this is that I told myself I wasn’t planting anything this year 🥴

As far as WEA goes, all I’ll say is that Hawk is going to go through the absolute ringer 🤫

4 notes · View notes

mpregeminem · 6 months ago

Note

i gotta say that way before when i learned that rhett and link are both married to women i actually thought they were a gay married couple from just seeing a video and couple of thumbnails on yt like 😵‍💫🤭

funnily enough it's a common misconception with them lmao. tbf you'll click on a random video of theirs and they'll be like today we're cooking beans at our house. we like to nap together in our office. today our kids are shooting nerf bullets at us 🧔🏼🤓

#asks #well anon what do you think of them now that you've seen me gone apeshit

4 notes · View notes

lyn-js · 1 year ago

Text

Home Sweet Home | Chapter 8. Second Guessing

Rhett Abbott x OC Reader

Summary: Sunny Pritchett decides to move back home, but without a reason why. Once she's back she runs into her childhood best, friend Rhett Abbott. Rhett seems very surprised to see her. Not only that, but he sees she has a small child on her hip. Will Sunny try to reconnect with Rhett and tell him the real reason you she's moved back. Or will her past come back and find her until everything blows up.

Warnings: Mental and Physical abuse, PTSD flashbacks, swearing, fighting, smut 18+

Sorry my loves, but I completely forgott to add this. (Bold Letters mean flashbacks)

3 years ago

Sitting down on the bathroom floor, scrunched up into a ball. Scared to look at the positive test on the floor next to you. You were still in shock. You still can’t get through your head there was a little bean inside your tummy. Yeah, you want kids in the future, but not now. You’re in college, you were top in your class, or you were in college and trying to work part-time as a waitress to make ends meet. While your boyfriend Gabe sits on his butt and does nothing, he recently got fired from his job because he came into work under the influence. In the end, you were blamed for Gabe being let go from his job. That’s how you ended up with a fresh bruise on your face, and hand marks on your next.

He was currently passed out on the couch, after a day of drinking with his buddies. You seemed off today, when you woke up you were super nauseous with a pounding headache, and your breasts were so sensitive and sore, that you could barely touch them without hissing in pain. Of course, you think your period is coming up, so you go onto your tracker app, but it’s saying you were 2 weeks late. You start to panic, and you don’t know what to do. Luckily Gabe didn’t delete your mom and dad's numbers, so you called them in a hurry so he doesn’t know who you're calling.

After you call your mom, she gives you some reassuring words telling you that everything will be fine, and she will love you nonetheless because you got pregnant. She was actually kind of happy, telling you “Finally getting to have a little grandbaby to spoil.” You try your hardest not to choke up when talking to her, you just want to be wrapped up in her embrace and never let go of her. So now you find yourself on the floor, scared to call your mom she was getting a grandbaby.

You feel so stupid for doing this, but your mind was on autopilot. You pick up your phone from the counter, and with your shaky hands you call a phone number you know by heart. She had one person in her life she wanted to call. But she knew it was a mistake… but she was doing it anyway. You were just praying to God and hoping that boy would pick up the phone.

It took two rigs for him to answer. ”Hello?” your voice closed up, and your eyes widened. You hadn’t heard him speak in a long time, his voice was so deep, and husky, that you honestly thought Perry or Royall had picked up the phone. “R-Rhett. is that y-you?” as soon as those words fall out of your mouth, the line goes dead. He hung up. You know what would happen if you tried to call again, but you did it. Of course, nobody picked up on the other end. You were so focused on getting somebody to pick up the phone, that you didn’t hear the big padded footsteps leading up to the bathroom door. The next thing you know the door is being kicked in, and Gabe looking at you, and the stick is next to you on the floor, and beaten senseless. “Who the fuck were you on the phone with bitch!” he was on top of you, making sure you weren't moving he grabs the phone from your hand. “I-I was calling m-my mom, I swear,” while trying to keep your eyes closed not trying to look at him with his raging look in his eye.

He finally gets off of you, but the next second you see him grab a fistful of your shirt, and you are face to face, you can smell the vodka on his breath from drinking earlier. And whispers in your face “Well Sun, these calls are recorded. So, if your fucking lying. You have another thing coming.” He pushes you back to the ground and leaves you a bloody heap on the floor. You just curl up into a ball on the floor, wanting to hide away from this life forever. You honestly didn’t know how your life got to this point. One second Gabe was being so nice, and sweet. Bringing you flowers when he would pick you up, giving you so many compliments. you honestly thought you could see a life together with him. The next, you’re being pushed around, slapped in the face, being called a whore for talking to one of your guy friends in your art class. Being so beaten to the bone. You can even cover up your bruises, so you would have to skip that day's class or call in sick for work. You never wanted to look at yourself in the mirror, seeing how your body has changed over the last couple of years. You hated that you stayed, telling yourself that if he would lay a hand on you again, you would walk away. But you never did, you honestly thought no one else could love you as much as Gabe did. Or at least that’s what he told you, jamming that horrible thought into your head.

You just want to be wrapped up in your mom's arms, saying sweet praises in your ear, telling you everything is going to be okay. Wanting to be with Rhett again, sitting in the back of his bed truck, talking for hours about anything until the sun came down. Letting him drive you home, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek, and see him the next-

“YOU LYING SLUT!” Gabe races back into the bathroom. You start to slide back against the wall, trying your hardest to get away from him. You see him hit a play button on the phone, and it starts to play a recording of when you were talking to Rhett. The only thing you do is try and cover your still-flat stomach. The next thing you know, Gabe is dragging you by your feet to the living room, and being slapped again. The next second you feel big, warm hands being wrapped around your throat. “Let this be a lesson sun, don’t ever call that Rhett-guy again, or I’ll kill you, and that little bastard in there. He releases one of his hands and digs his finger into your stomach. You try your hardest to stay away, forcing your eyes to stay open. But the flutter closes, and suddenly everything around you goes black.

You jolt up in your bed, gasping for air, feeling cold sweat beads roll down your forehead, trying to catch your breath. You look over at your clock, it’s 4 in the morning. Then you look on the other side next to you, you see Ollie and Rhett under the covers. Ollie was sandwiched between you and him, but you could see your baby snuggle into Rhett’s embrace. Almost clinging to him like if he were to let Rhett go, he would disappear. Then you focus on Rhett, he has a protective arm around Ollie too. But the rest of his arm was probably on your stomach, but now wrapped around your baby.

You need some fresh air, and you need someone to hold onto. So, you gently take Ollie out of Rhett’s arms, and slowly walk down the steps and out to your front porch to sit on the swing and cool off.

When you get out on the porch, you are hit with a nice, cool breeze hitting you right in the face. Letting go of all that stress and tension from your body. You’re just thinking this is another amazing dream, and the next second you'll wake up and be in that little tiny apartment again, looking down at your body littered with fresh, healing bruises. You just have to remind yourself that you got out of that horrible situation, you’re with your family, and you're finally with Rhett. Your son’s alive. You’re alive.

You're taking deep breaths, swaying Ollie back n’ forth, and just enjoying the peace. Until you hear the front door open. You see a half-awake Rhett, only wearing his baggy boxers, nothing on top, looking perfect as always. But he has a worried look on his face. He drags his feet, sits down next to you, and wraps you and Ollie into his side. “Why are ya’ all alone out here?” he asks in a groggy voice. Even when he just wakes up he makes your body shudder.

“Just had a bad dream, that’s all,” you say breathing in his scent and resting your face on his neck. The smell of fresh rain, with the mix of leather, always seems to calm you down. Never want to let that sent go from your mind.

“Just a bad dream? Ya know you can tell me ya know?” he asks talking into your hair and then kissing your temple. “R-Rhett, I think it’s time I tell you what happened,” you say in a quiet voice. “He moves you slightly so he can fully see you now. “Sun, you don’t have to tell me now, you can tell me on your time baby,” he says back. “N-no, I want you to know, we're together now, and I don’t want to keep anything from each other.” “Oh so we're together now?” he says in a playful tone, but you give him a little shove with your body. “Stop! I’m bein’ serious,” you say back. “I know baby, I’m just messin’, now really I want you to tell me,” he speaks in a serious voice now and wrapping a protective arm around you rubbing up and down to sooth your nerves.

You take a deep breath in and start to unravel. “When I went away for school, I felt lonely and at first it was kinda hard making friends, so I would either stay in my dorm, or I’d go out to the bar that was near the campus. One night I was at the bar, and then I accidentally bumped into someone, and that someone was Ollie's father. Gabe.” you take a deep breath to calm your nerves trying your hardest not to let those bad memories flood back into your mind. Rhett just gently kisses your temple again “Take your time Sun, I’m right here.” he says in a reassuring voice like everything is going to be alright.

You start back up again. “At first, he was so sweet, and genuine, making me feel like I was the only girl in the room. And of course, me being the hopeless romantic that I am, I fell into his little trap,” you say while also leaning into Rhett more to keep you grounded, and he’s still gently rubbing your arm. “It started when he wanted me to move in with him. He always wanted me to stay home when I needed to go to class. Always wanted me to cook, clean, and do the dishes, just basically me being a maid for him. Then, he started to accuse me of cheating on him with some of my classmates, he was calm one minute and the next he would be a drunk, mean accuser of something I didn’t do.” You try to keep your tears at bay, and just keep rocking Ollie and placing delicate kisses on the top of his head. “It started one day when he was accusing me of cheating with someone I work with at the diner. I kept telling him I didn’t cheat, and that I loved him and this relationship, but he didn’t want to listen to me. I wanted to cool off for a bit so I went into the bedroom to take a nap, and he went out with some of his friends from work. When I woke up he was back, but he was drunk to oblivion, throwing stuff around, and slurring his words. I walked out to see what was happening… he took one look at me, and started to chase me around the apartment. He caught up to me and slammed my head against the wall until I was on the ground.” When Rhett heard those words leave your mouth, he stopped rubbing your arm for a second and started again. You didn’t know if it was to comfort you or him.

“Then he… then he started hitting me, calling me a liar and saying he didn’t believe me. After he was done he just left me there, in so much… p-pain I couldn’t move for hours. A day later, he came into the apartment with bouquets saying how sorry he was. A-And I believed him. I fell into his little trap again.” Then you let the tears start flowing down your face. You start to tell Rhett about the other times Gabe hurt you, anything from choking you, kicking you while on the floor, and choking you until you blacked out. You felt Rhett stop rubbing your arm, and could see the white in his knuckles. You reach for his hand and try to start soothing him.

“A year or two later, I found out I was pregnant. I was so scared, and afraid I called my mom to ask her what to do. And a couple of minutes after I saw the test I called… I called you.” you say while looking at him. “And I know you didn’t want to talk to me, but I didn’t know who else-” but he cuts you off by pressing a finger to your lips, “Whoa whoa whoa, Slow down baby. I was the one who fucked up. When I realized it was you I started to panic. I wanted to call you for so long, I thought you didn’t want to talk to me. That’s why I hung up. Not because I hated you.” He says again in an assuring voice trying to calm you down.

“After I tried to call you again, Gabe ran into the bathroom and started hitting me, yelling who I was with on the phone. I made up some lie and told him I was on the phone with my mom or something. He walked out and a couple of minutes later he came back in madder than he was before, and played a recording of me n’ you talking. He dragged me out by my feet, I was trying to kick him away, but I couldn’t.” You take a deep breath and try to continue. “He started hitting me again, I didn’t care at that point if he was hitting me, I just wanted to protect my stomach. Then… he started to choke me, and he told me if I ever called you again. He… he was gonna kill me… and the baby.” You let some more tears fall, and just look down at your baby, now realizing you were holding him in a death grip. Not wanting to lose the person most precious to you in this whole world. “That’s what I was dreaming about. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You were pleading with Rhett.

“Hey, look at me Sunny-girl,” moving your head again so he can get your full attention. “You are here now. Your safe. Ollie’s safe. And as long as their breath is in my body, I will make sure that asshole doesn’t get near my girl or son ever again.” You never would expect Rhett to call Ollie his son, but when he did it made your heart melt into a puddle with the love, care, and affection he has for your baby. “I know. I believe you would,” That was the last thing you said before connecting your lips with his in a searing kiss. Rhett breaks the kiss and whispers against your lips. “I will love and protect you both until my dyin’ days, ya hear me,” you just nod your head “I know cowboy, and for as long as you’ll have me I’ll do the same.” you smile against his lips before you both start kissing again.

You both break away once more to see Ollie stir in your arms, you both look down and see him start to wake up. “Good morning baby, Did you have a good sleep?” you ask him. “It was otay momma.” You and Rhett both let out a chuckle. “Where Rhetty momma?” he looks around confused, wondering where his new friend is. “I’m right hear Bubba,” when he hears his voice, you hand him over to Rhett, and see Ollie snuggle into his warm body and fall back asleep. “I think it’s time to head back in baby, whadya think?” “I think you're right cowboy,” so you both get up from the swing and head back inside to your home. Wanting to be in the comfort of your family, your amazing son, and Rhett. You're finally starting to realize this isn’t a dream. This is your amazing future.

End.

We are halfway through this story!! I'm so excited for what I have planned for this. I also might make some drabbles with Sunny and Rhett. message me for what you guys would like to read.

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you wanted to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @callsign-magnolia @roosterforme @angelbabyyy99@cornishkat@els-marvelvsp

dividers are by @saradika

#rhett abbott #rhett abbot x reader #outer range #lewis pullman #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine

14 notes · View notes