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[lunaticus-platina]

Happy writing. Heh. *nodnod*

**This prompt contains gore and some graphic violence. Please proceed with caution**

I Want to Hold Your Hand Two dark pools filled with wicked promises was the first thing she saw when she came to. She was sitting in a chair, tied and gagged and feeling a bit disoriented. The strange man who had pulled her over earlier stood before her covered in blood. As her eyes started to adjust, she realized she was in a dimly lit room, and there was a dead body on the floor off to her left, lying in a pool of blood. A scream began to form in her throat, but before she could release it, however muffled it may have been due to the gag, the man dressed in a sheriff's uniform shushed her. "No screaming, pet," he said, his voice low. "Now's not the time for that. Not yet..." She could feel herself starting to panic as she struggled against the bonds that held her to the chair. The sheriff, if he even was a real cop, gazed at her for a moment, his teeth flashing in a subtle grin that hinted at something foreboding. He looked pensive, as though trying to decide what he was going to do with her. She swallowed thickly, her heart racing in her chest. Her eyes continued to dart around the room, but her only way out, if she could even manage to get free of her bonds, was blocked by the towering man in front of her. "Now, now, pet," he murmured, stepping closer. "You don't need to struggle. I promise you'll be released soon enough." The man reached out to stroke her cheek, leaving a smear of blood on her face. She jerked back, almost tipping the chair in the process. The man grabbed her and settled her back in place, then turned on his heel and left the room. He returned a moment later with his hands behind his back, an almost feral grin on his face now. "Time to play, pet." She stared up at him with fear in her eyes as he brought his hands out from behind his back. In them, he held what look like some type of saw. Her breath caught in her throat, and she began to hyperventilate. The man moved to her side and placed the blade of the saw just above where her wrist was bound to the chair. His eyes lit up with sick pleasure as he began to move the blade back and forth, cutting into her skin. Blood began to spurt, and her muffled screams filled the air. "Music to my ears," the man muttered as he continued to put more pressure on the saw. "That's it, pet. Scream for me. I love to hear it." Her vision began to tunnel as she struggled to suck in air through her nose. The pain was overwhelming, and she knew she was going into shock. It was then her mind brought forth a memory, something she had seen on the news a few days prior. There had been reports of a serial killer on the loose. Someone who had been going around cutting off the hands and feet of his victims before slitting their throats and leaving their bodies dumped in the woods. The last two victims had been a young, twenty-something blonde woman and her boyfriend. She realized now that she was about to be the next victim.

"There we are," the sheriff said. "One down, three more to go..."

He picked up her severed hand and brought it to his lips. He moaned softly as he sucked one of the fingers into his mouth, his eyes fluttering closed. A look of ecstasy crossed his face before he slipped the digit from his lips and set the hand aside.

As he moved around to her other side, preparing to slice into her other wrist, she jerked herself backwards with as much force as she could, tipping the chair to the floor.

The sheriff wasn't fast enough to catch her, and her head slammed against the hard wood. A growl came from above, and then she was being lifted into the air. She could feel his hot breath against her ear as he righted her, and he sounded almost disappointed as he whispered, "I didn't want to have to do this yet, but you've left me no choice."

The sheriff set the saw down and disappeared again, returning this time with a small scalpel. He tsked as he held it to her throat. With sudden force, he stabbed the blade into her skin and ran the blade across her throat from ear to ear. As the blood began to spray, covering his face, the last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was, "I only wanted to hold your hand."

[lunaticus-platina]

Aight this is the post for the anon(😏) ask.

My fave moment of Travis x my oc Brennen is post-quarry, when the situation settled down and they kept meeting up until they got close. And became 'not boyfriends'(Of course Travis. Yeah.)

Travis was feeling under the weather and Brennen cuddled him. There's a wip of that moment, actually, brewing in my wip pit. To be completed in a decade maybe.

So in the cuddle fic, Travis went to Brennen's place and was feeling cold and his joints ached. Pretty obvious signs of a cold but as always, he had to be stubborn about it, so Brennen just wrapped him on his chest with blankets and didn't get up from the sofa.

Travis had a big frown on his face before he fell asleep. Brennen has great circulation in his body, so he has naturally high body temperature. Good cuddle buddy when you feel weak and miserable.

Oh and Travis sniffed Brennen's shirt while he was trapped in the blanket cocoon, like a weirdo he is. And Brennen didn't mention it because he thought it was cute, like a weirdo he is.

Another moment I like is whenever they throw hands, as strange as that sounds. If there's one thing Bren learned in therapy, it's that you have to express your frustration somehow instead of letting it rot in your mind and cause further troubles later.

And what better way for the great communicator like Travis Hackett to express his anger other than talking things out with his fists.

Since he can't explain how he feels, unlike how other emotionally stable people can, he has to act rather than speak. And that's fine by Brennen. He's quite fluent in fist talks! Also, his provocation game is top-notch.

It's like a morbid foreplay. They grunt and roll around and grab at each other, basically the same thing.(not) And they can make up later.

The way they fight is interesting too. Brennen avoids hitting the face because he 'doesn't want to damage the goods'. Travis is fucking livid but tries to pin Bren down like a cop he is instead of punching him too many times.

It quickly turns into a fight for dominance, but usually the angrier one wins. Namely, Travis. And it feels good to come out on top, so it's a little therapeutic for Travis each time. Bren doesn't mind. That's the whole purpose of starting the fights anyway. Fighting it out and making up later is their love language, I guess.

Oh and it takes a lot for Travis to actually snap, so imagine what kind of things Brennen says to drive him mad. Even while Travis is prowling around in a circle, ready to take him down. Yeah. Insufferable bastard.

[lunaticus-platina]

Oh my fucking God and all that's holy

commish for @MidnightandDiamonds !! <3

a piece I made for this incredible fanfic (for this specific chapter) which is a Travis/Laura fic btw!!

on the sad note - from now on I won't be doing ANY NSFW with Travis or.. any of Ted's characters really.. I'm sorry, he's not just a random man in my life anymore and I fucking can't. Byeeeeee (not like I can't separate fiction from reality - it's that I looked into his eyes too many times and my brain can't anymore)

(I can still do Travis/Laura, it's fine, just nothing too extreme)

[lunaticus-platina]

I'm not even Hackearney shipper but I guess I do have something to say about Travis.

What he did was wrong. But had he not locked Laura and Max up and hid them away, his family would've literally murdered them.

He had no damn choice, it was either getting Laura and Max killed or endangering his family.

If you hate him for his crimes, fine. Understandable. He's one messed up man with a dysfunctional family.

But his fate hasn't been kind to him either and he's always miserable. I give him point for trying anyway.

Josh Washington x Chris Hartley (Climbing Class)

1. they're so iconic, so cute, so tragic. just the true otp

Laura Kearney x Travis Hackett (Hackearney)

1. they have a cool dynamic. they could be a battle couple!

[lunaticus-platina]

Something that i find intresting about Travis character is that, when we are in jail and Laura was trying to be on his side, and there's that dialog about the seven motives of why they were in jail and he says "and you keep calling me names" at the time that we hear It's funny, but when we see that he was being verbally abused by his mother for aparely his whole life it doesn't seem so funny now. That i thought it was so well executed that if the quarry wasn't so rushed, one billion things could've been more well explored in many ways.

Another thing. Ted perfomace was so meticulous that when we lock Travis up concious on the jail cell, he tries to talk to Laura to not do what she was about to do, max threat to beat him and he goes back in reflex, the same he did when Constance lunged forward like she was about to beat him. Trauma is a hell of a thing.

And i'm not saying he is a pure innocent guy, nah, if he was he wouldn't be my favorite character.

[lunaticus-platina]

Good Thing For You

For @uncanny8ellen

Prompt: Travis is shot in action. His partner died on the spot, he himself is severely injured, but alive. There was a mix-up, and the news reports Travis as dead, instead of his partner. None of his family comes to even check. Even Kaylee and Caleb, their granny won't let them go. But Laura does. Because she thought he's dead...

Pairing: Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney

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

Laura started shaking when she stepped foot into north kill general.

Travis was dead. That's what the papers said anyway. Said he was shot and killed in the line of duty. As much as Laura wanted to believe it was true and put that awful summer to rest, she had to see that he was really gone for herself. The man had refused to stay down as long as she'd known him. It would be a cold day in hell before he let a bullet or two take him down.

God he's DEAD and she doesn't know how to feel about it. 

Gone. Gone. Gone

Travis elicited a lot of mixed feelings from her. He locked her in a cage for two months. And he saved their lives. And he helped cure them all by killing silus. And he's gone.

"Excuse me."

The receptionist looked up to the sound of her voice, still clacking away at her keyboard. The false smile she sent Laura's way set her on edge. Yellowed teeth flashed and she was back in the camp. Back in the house. back in....

"What can I do for you?"

Laura leaned against the counter and nervously ran her fingers across it. She let her fingers stray over the grooves of the warped 70s vinyl, absentmindedly picking at a missing chunk. 

"I was just wondering if anyone...well if anyone has came for Travis Hackett yet? I wanted to....." She trailed off. Unsure if they would even let her back there. 

"Room 214. you take a left, then another left and its the room at the end of the hall"

Laura nodded at the receptionist and hurried away. Desperate to get away from both the woman who set her on edge and the thoughts plaguing her of Travis.

He's dead. Gone. shot. No one left who understands. No one......

214. Room 214? Looking aroud the hallways, she didn't see a sign that said morgue. She saw ICU and Surgery and Clinic. No Morgue.

The morgue should be in a different part of the building than the ICU....Shouldn't it?

Laura didn't know the first thing about north kill or its hospital.

Her confusion only grew as she passed by more and more patient rooms. As she found herself stood in front of the door to 214, Laura realized what had been eating her.

214 is a patient room in the ICU.

The shakes return with a vengeance. Laura grabbed the handle to the door and froze. Beeping and whooshing and Max taking his final breath....

Is Travis actually in there? Is he alive!

Laura wasn't sure if she could face the man while he was still breathing. She didn't exactly have a contingency plan for this. 

The smell of antiseptic burned her nose. She remembered...she remembered the hospital, from before. The one they all were taken to after...after...

"Excuse me...ma'am?" A nurse jogged up to her. Looking from her to the door in shock.

"Are you here to see Sheriff Hackett?"

Laura stumbled on her words.

 "I...well...they said he was dead but then suddenly he's not and ..." Looking from the woman to the blank face of the door of room 214, she suddenly found herself at a loss. 

"He's really in there?"

The nurse must have understood at least some of what Laura was feeling. Her hand reached out to give Laura comfort. Stopping halfway to its destination as laura flinched away.  

"Yeah. You're the first person who has come to see him since he got here. Are you family?"

Laura suddenly really, really wanted into that room. 

"I'm his girlfriend. No one contacted me about this and I haven't heard from him in days. I thought I'd check the hospital."

The lies rolled off her tongue like she was born to tell them. She even choked up a little. 

If, maybe, the tears weren't as faked as she told herself they were, well, she'll keep that buried in the back of her mind to never be looked at again.

The nurse bought it. Nodding at Laura with a solemn look on her face.

"I know we're typically not supposed to do this without Travis's permission, but none of his contacts or next of kin have answered us, not even his ex wife and Gina usually answers the phone to at least tell us to fuck off. So, would you like to give us your contact information? For Travis"

The revelation that Travis had an ex wife barely sunk in next to the biggest one. Not a single family member came to see him. Not even his mom he gave so much of a shit about.

So much for family is everything.

She doesn't know why she nodded at the nurse and gave over her info. She should really give less of a fuck about Travis at all. 

But even this is too much for her to handle. He gave everything for his family and they couldn't even come to see him when he could have died. 

The man had gone through great lengths to keep his family safe, to keep herself and Max alive. Hell, Laura shared so much of her trauma with the man that she couldnt find herself not giving a fuck. Why then did his own family abandon him?

Finally the clerical work was done and she was allowed to approach his door again. 

The first thing she noticed was the tubes crawling in and out of his skin. A breathing tube around his nose and at least two IV ports, probably a catheter too since he looked so strapped in he wouldn't be able to walk. 

The news said the partner was shot three times. Looking at Travis now, she could believe it happened to him instead.

He was awake and looked to be in a lot of pain. Laura had caught him in a moment of weakness. Unguarded with his mouth pinched thin and skin bleached white with pain. 

 His hazy brown eyes widened at the sight of her.

"What are you doing here? Have you come to finaly finish me off?"

His voice was raw and unused. Weak and uncommanding. Tired

Laura closed the door behind her. Looking around the room, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. No one even sent him a card. He flinched at her as her knowing gaze slid back to meet his own.

Travis was alone but he was ok. He was alive.

Laura was uncomfortable at the feelings of relief running rampant through her body so she did what she always did and fell back into antagonizing him.

"I wanted to make sure you were actually a corpse like they said you were. Seems to me like you're harder to kill than even I thought."

"Get out"

"No. I came all this way to see you. I'm not leaving just because you got your panties in a twist"

Laura set her stance. She was the immovable object to his unstoppable force. Too bad for Travis that he was too injured to put up much of a fight. To his credit, the man still tried.

"What could we possibly have to talk about Laura"

"A hell of a lot more than your family, thats for sure."

He winced at her words and she felt bad for even saying them. Laura crossed her arms in a gesture of protection. Hiding her aching heart from the world.

"You get out of that well yet Travis? Seems like you're the only one in it now. You got everyone else out. Why aren't they here, with you?"

She moved closer to his bed, resting her hands on the yellowed and cracking plastic to hold herself up. She wanted, no needed, to sit and have a good mental breakdown. 

Not here though.

"They blame me for Kaylee and Chris"

The confession was quiet. She could barely hear it under the beeping of the heart monitor.

"They shouldn't. It wasn't on you"

Travis took a few seconds to really process her words. She could see it in his eyes when he finally realized what she had already realized. 

He wanted her to care. He wanted to care about her. And that scared him as much as caring for him scared her. Birds of a feather flock together.

"Yeah. It was on you."

Or insult each other with wild and half thought out accusations.

"No it fucking wasnt on me. It was on Kaylee and Caleb for going out there, knowing full well that they could and HAVE killed people before. I stay in bed longer than they would have stayed in that cell and they went out and killed a bunch of people anyway."

She watched as he slowly came back to life to defend his family from her accusations. He looked ready to jump out of the bed and fight her, bullet holes and all. Then he did the damndest thing. 

Travis deflated. 

"You're right. They, all of em, did stupid shit and got folk killed...why are you really here Laura?"

"I couldn't believe you were dead. I just knew you weren't. Like I said, I needed to see for myself."

Travis did the second damndest thing today and smiled at her. It was tired and shaky but it was there. A real smile.

"And you saw"

"And I saw"

Travis finally acquiesced and gestured for her to sit. The worn pleather lazyboy looked lumpy and uncomfortable and had a few spots on it she wasnt entirely sure were safe to touch but Laura fell into the chair gratefully anyway. 

"If you're going to stick around, you wanna help me by eating this shit ass jello? Or throwing it down the toilet, I couldn't give a flying fuck either way"

Laura took the jello from his shaking and bandaged fingers. Eyeballing it to see if she actually did want to eat it. Her face twitched in disgust at the label. 

They gave him lime.

"They trying to torture you or something?"

No way she's eating this garbage.

Laura reluctantly stood and started to make her way to the bathroom to toss the offending excuse for desert. 

"Oh yeah and Travis. I told the hospital I was your girlfriend so they would let me in. I hope you don't mind"

To Laura's amusement, the sounds of his confused sputtering followed her all the way to the bathroom.

[lunaticus-platina]

Posing for their family album. THEM 🤌🥹

Спустя пять лет опять мучаю планшик, до чего довел квори ппц 🥹

[lunaticus-platina]

Thank you so much for your insistence on Travis not being a dumbass. Yes, he makes some bad decisions and is a bit silly in his desperate question to Laura about "using science," but I think that just stems from his desperation. I mean Travis probably managed to create some tranquilizing stuff to tranquilize people AND werewolves without accidentally killing them, and he obviously succeeds in using it without people getting hurt. And he created/filled in silver bullets himself. He is resourceful

Exactly!

Travis is the brains of his family. We didn't see the other Hacketts come up with ideas. They turned to him for solutions — like the time Chris found out about the Bizarre Yet Bonafide podcast, and he asked Travis to handle it for him.

[lunaticus-platina]

High adrenaline

[lunaticus-platina]

Travis Hackett H3!!!

The Sheriff is having a weird night. 😵‍💫

[lunaticus-platina]

Somethin' Bad - Part 15

Author's Note: Hello, my lovelies! I hope you're having a relaxing, slow Thanksgiving Break! Thanks for hanging in here with me.

A big thank you to Tumbler user @jiahn for bringing it to my attention Travis Hackett was originally intended to be a lover of romance novels. I'm totally going to utilize that.

TW: Y'all, I had a hard time writing Constance, especially her interactions with Travis this go. I don't know if it's because I'm a mom, too, or what, but it was a struggle. Limited language, but still may be hard to read for some folks

Part 15

Annabelle had meant what she’d said to Travis: she did have a pot roast ready to go in the oven, and laundry to finish. After all, she was working with a severely limited supply of clothing, and as much fun as raiding Travis’ wardrobe – and his reaction – was she couldn’t quite bring herself to don his briefs. Once the roast was in the oven (she missed cooking!) and the laundry was running (thank God for modern conveniences!) she headed back to his bedroom.

Travis’ headboard was the kind with a built in bookshelf, and he’d utilized every bit of space. More Louis L’Amour coupled with Agatha Christie’s Hercules Poirot novels; Elmore Leonard and a few old Perry Mason paperbacks; a compilation of Flannery O’Conner’s short stories and a Dean Koontz novel that looked untouched. Annabelle took each book out carefully, mindful of the order they’d come in, and unearthed the books behind the ones Travis had on display. He’d pressed them flat against the back of the shelf instead of spine out like the books she’d just removed, as if he were intentionally hiding them from the casual glance.

Again, cautious of the order they were stored in, Annabelle removed them, casting a careful eye to the bedroom door. If Travis caught her now she was sure he’d be irate at best, and furious at worst. He’d hidden these books for a reason, and after glancing at a few of the covers she began to develop a theory as to why.

Beautiful women in billowing dresses with slits up the side, and barely covered, heaving bosoms reclined in the arms of scantily clad, well built men. Annabelle had seen more than her fair share of bodice ripper romances on her college roommate’s desk, but she’d never seen a man reading one. Annabelle grinned at the thought of her surly, brusque sheriff curling up to read about beautiful men and women working through built-up sexual tension, warring personalities, and eventual deep, passionate, forever love.

Travis has a soft side, she thought almost giddily, returning to the other books she’d unearthed. The others had more subdued covers: a handsome cowboy, and a lovely blonde in a high-neck lace dress with her hair piled high; a dark haired World War Two nurse in the arms of a striking sailor; a cute, nerdy guy casting a longing glance at a sexy red-head. Each book was well worn, and upon flipping through each, she noticed someone had dog-eared several pages she assumed were favorite parts; some were red hot, leaving her feeling flushed, while others were tender and sweet.

It was incredibly endearing.

Her investigation led her to several conclusions about her stoic sheriff: He was a covert romantic, he seemed to prefer the forced proximity/ arranged marriage tropes the most, and the historical romances set on the frontier and during World War Two seemed to be his favorite. From what she could gather, most of the heroes were about brooding, silent types who fell for feisty, warm women who often were in need of rescuing – that one hit a bit too close to home, but she tucked that thought away for later. Her last, perhaps most important revelation however, was Travis felt the need to hide these books.

These clearly well-loved, well-read books she imagined brought him great comfort and joy were either an embarrassment to him, or a source of shame. She was still pondering this when a loud banging came from the front door, startling her out of her reverie. Quickly and efficiently, Annabelle slid each book back in the exact spot she’d found it while the pounding on the door grew in intensity.

In her experience, there were two types of people who wailed on a door like this: someone in great fear with desperate need, or someone with ill intent. Annabelle was weighing her options when a woman’s shriek came from the opposite side of the door, and while her words were slightly muffled, her intentions became alarmingly clear. Annabelle’s skin goose-pimpled, and the hair on her arms raised as she considered her options: hide, arm herself with whatever she could find, or swing the door open and confront this threat head on. Annabelle, while impulsive, wasn’t a fool – there was no way she was going to that door unarmed.

“I know you’re in there, you little whore! Open up, or I swear I’ll break this door down.”

Annabelle didn’t know many people in North Kill, but from what she did know she’d hazard a guess Travis’ mama, Sean’s ex-judge, jury, and jailer, was the lunatic on the other side of the door. This knowledge and the woman’s screaming threat caused an odd calm to settle over Annabelle. It was the kind of calm someone gets when they’ve encountered enough aggression, hostility, and violence in their lifetime such things become disturbingly normal. Annabelle had faced her fair share of monsters, both human and supernatural, and the shrieking woman on the other side of the door ranked as more of a nuisance than an actual threat now that Annabelle’s fight response was kicking in. A wicked half grin slid over her features as she braced herself for the coming battle.

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

Normally, when a prisoner showered in the North Kill station an officer stood vigilante while maintaining a respectful distance for optimum privacy and security. Travis’ standards had relaxed dramatically with his current “prisoner.” Half the time Sean seemed oblivious to his presence, rubbing a hand over his face, and staring off into space with a pensive expression; the rest of the time he was remarkably respectful and genuinely friendly. He’d ask Travis about his tastes in food, music, and literature with honest curiosity, and could hold a thoughtful, meaningful conversation while making Travis feel important and valued.

It was the weirdest freaking thing Travis had ever experienced, and he hunted werewolves.

Sean was currently enthralled in a description of time travel, alternating theories, his current hypothesis, and the data he’d collected thus far with all of his “down time,” as he called it. Travis was sitting on a bench, head in his hands, bored out of his mind; Annabelle was right, it did give him a headache.

So when his cell phone went off he had to stifle every urge inside him to shout hallelujah for an excuse to step out of the room. “Yes, Mrs. Thatcher? Everything all right?” Emily Thatcher was his elderly neighbor, a widow with three grown children spread out over the country, a bonafide gossip, and the winner of the church pound cake competition every year since 1972. A phone call from her wasn’t unusual, but the timbre her voice currently held sure was.

“Oh, honey, you need to come home right now. Your mother - .” He didn’t hear anything else after that, and he didn’t need to.

Your mother.

Travis felt chilled and nauseous imagining his mother within twenty feet of Annabelle. His Annabelle. His. She’ll kill her, he thought in a panic, breaking into a run for his cruiser. She’ll kill her the way she killed… he pushed the thought from his head. He had to focus and get home; he could recount his mother’s sins another time, but right now keeping Annabelle safe was all that mattered.

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

It was worse than he’d anticipated when Travis got home. His father’s old pickup was parked in his front lawn – his lawn, not his driveway – and his mother was banging on the front door so hard he was surprised it hadn’t caved in. His father and Bobby stood off to the side like glorified lackeys, and if they hadn’t been men he deeply loved and respected he would’ve hated them for just fueling his mother’s insanity.

“Open up, you little bitch, or I swear I’ll burn this shack to the ground.”

Travis felt another piece of him break because he knew his mother meant it – she would burn his house down – hell, she’d burn the whole town down if it meant keeping him to herself. Because “family was the most important thing in the world.”

It was suffocating, exhausting, and spirit-breaking.

Travis stepped out of his car to face his raging mother when the front door swung wide open. Annabelle’s eyes narrowed as she levied the double barrel shotgun at the smaller woman. “I don’t know who you are, lady, but take your crazy back where you came from before I give the lawn a paint job.”

Travis froze. There was no hesitation or fear in Annabelle’s demeanor; gone was his feisty songbird, and in her place stood a fierce, take-no-prisoners warrior who would pull the trigger if given a reason.

Maybe, just maybe she’d been telling him the truth about herself all this time.

“You lower that gun, little miss,” his father called out, seemingly unbothered by her threat. “You’re on Hackett property.”

Annabelle didn’t move, and her resolve didn’t break. Instead, a slow, menacing smile slid over her pretty features. Oh, shit.

“Ma,” Travis called, and he was thankful his voice remained steady – the rest of him certainly didn’t feel it. All eyes turned to him, except Annabelle’s – hers stayed right on Constance. His father looked irritated, Bobby looked confused and a bit sad, but his mother looked unhinged. The slew of expletives she began to spit at him were nothing new, but it was the first time she’d christened his home with such colorful language.

“How dare you… we’re toiling away, and you’re living it up with this Twinkie… after all the sacrifices we made for you… ungrateful, good for nothing…”

He’d heard it all before; memorized it line and verse. Travis could recite every ill thought his mother had ever spewed his way so well it was the voice he heard when he closed his eyes at night. He had never been good enough, never would be good enough for her, and his father, for whatever reason, stood there and let her say it.

Like he approved. Like he agreed. Travis couldn’t decide which was worse – her abuse or his silence.

Bobby… well, he couldn’t much fault Bobby. He was the favored child before his accident in Afghanistan; loved by everyone, Bobby was the quarterback in high school with his sights set on playing in college, and then maybe the NFL. He had the talent, the drive, the build, and the support of his family to pursue it, and the encouragement from every doe-eyed teenage girl and aging football enthusiast. Robert Hackett was going to put North Kill on the map with his talent.

Bobby had something else, though: deep admiration and respect for his oldest brother. From the moment he could walk, Bobby was constantly at Travis’ side aching for any attention or affection his hero would offer him. When Travis graduated high school he enlisted in the Army – an outright act of defiance towards his mother. He returned home out of guilt and obligation, joining the police force because it suited his skill set better than anything else North Kill had to offer. He knew his brothers were proud of him, but he had no idea Bobby was rethinking his future plans, viewing Travis’ route as one of honor and self-sacrifice.

Their mother went ballistic when Bobby announced he’d enlisted “just like Travis.” He was going to make a difference “just like Travis.” He’d make them proud “just like Travis.” So when Bobby’s unit was hit with a roadside bomb and Bobby came home forever changed… well, Constance knew exactly where to point her finger and lash her blame.

“Are you listening to me, Travis Hackett? I am speaking to you.”

“More like screaming,” Annabelle said, and their words brought Travis back to the drama unfolding on his front lawn. His mother turned her eyes back to Annabelle, launching into another display of her disapproval.

Travis didn’t have many boundaries with his family – they tended to bulldoze right through them – but he was thankful now he’d never given them a key to his home. He cringed internally at the idea of Constance walking in and catching Annabelle unaware.

Just a few hours ago he’d left her with a tender kiss goodbye, and now she was pointing a gun at his mother. Something about the odd combination made his affection for her grow. His mother spat another vile sentiment his way again, but he didn’t hear it as he moved past the men in his family, his dark eyes set intently on the brunette.

“Are you all right?” He asked softly, sliding a hand around her waist and pressing his cheek to hers so only she could hear him. She made an affirming noise with a slight nod, but the gun remained poised at his mother.

His mother. His mother who was angry and stupid enough she might actually try to wrangle it away from Annabelle if he didn’t resolve this quickly. Constance may have broken his heart more times than he could count, but he didn’t want to see her hurt.

“Lower the gun.” He said, but she didn’t move. He repeated his words again more firmly this time. “Lower the gun.” Still nothing. Travis felt his frustration shift to the stubborn brunette. “Belle,” he said softly, raising a hand to the gun’s barrel, testing Annabelle’s resolve as he pressed down gently.

She tensed at his use of her nickname – he’d never said it before. “If she charges me I’m taking her down,” Annabelle promised. Loud enough for Constance to hear her, as if she was issuing a warning. The older woman had the nerve to smirk in response. The warning suddenly felt like she’d thrown down a gauntlet. Travis sighed. “We will discuss this later, Sheriff,” Annabelle assured him, finally turning her dark eyes his way as the gun barrel lowered.

“I promise.” She hesitated, finally relinquishing her hold on the shotgun, and casting a withering glare in his mother’s direction.

Constance looked like the cat who ate the canary as she grinned up at Annabelle. “Good boy, Travis. Now, get this hussy’s things, and Bobby and Pa will take her to the bus station while we have a nice chat.” Constance’s voice held a victory tune, but Travis wasn’t quite willing to concede. Not yet.

“Ma,” he began.

“Now, Travis. You’ve given your neighbors enough to discuss.” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but her words stung. He’d given?

“An… Alice is staying, Ma,” he said, stumbling to remember Annabelle’s alias. His mother would read it as weakness, which he supposed was better than telling her the truth.

“No, Travis.” Constance shook her head. “You’ve had your fun. Now be a good boy, and,” she cut her eyes to Annabelle, “take out the trash.”

To her credit, Annabelle didn’t seem bothered by Constance’s name calling, but a brow was raised as she cocked her head to the side, eyeing the older woman as if she was studying her for vulnerabilities. Travis closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. This all felt too familiar, too painful. “C’mon, little miss,” Jedediah called from where he stood looking deeply bored. “Travis can send you your things, but we’ve got things to do.”

No one expected Annabelle to laugh, and the whole Hackett clan reeled as if she’d slapped them. “Y’all are a real piece of work, you know that?” She asked, chuckling and shaking her head. “I mean, wow. Just wow. You come here with a whole new level of crazy, order your grown son to send me packing, and expect me to actually get in a car with two men I don’t know? The audacity.” She laughed again.

Jedediah frowned, glaring at Travis as if he’d somehow spoken through Annabelle. “You will get in this car, missy, and you will not speak to my wife like that again.”

Annabelle’s smile dropped. “It will be a cold day in hell before I go anywhere with you,” she declared. “And I will speak to ‘your wife’ however I deem fit after her ludicrous display just now.”

“Wow,” Bobby piped in with genuine disbelief. “She sure knows a lot of words, Travis.” He turned to his dad. “I don’t think she wants to come with us, Pa.”

“No, Bobby, she doesn’t,” Travis said, meeting his brother’s eyes. Even now he still looked at Travis with something akin to awe. He turned back to his mother to see her eyes firmly locked on Annabelle, like a snake planning to strike.

“Now you listen to me, you ugly little slut,” Constance sneered, thrusting a finger in Annabelle’s direction. “You get into that damn truck right now, or my Bobby will drag you by the hair all the way to the state line.”

“Ma, stop it.” It was meant as a warning, but Travis was afraid it sounded like a plea.

Annabelle cocked her head to the side, and pursed her lips like she was considering the offer. “Bobby’ll do it because…,” she trailed off, flashing Constance a grin. “Because you can’t?”

Travis groaned. Bait, set, trap. He saw his mother lunge forward, a primal scream erupting from her throat as she launched herself at the taller brunette. Annabelle’s body tensed, ready to fight, but before she could do anything Travis was in front of her, arms spread as he blocked his mother. The loud crack of Constance’s hand rang out, and he heard Annabelle gasp behind him in surprise as he took the slap intended for her. Neither woman had expected his interference, and for a moment everything was still.

Travis met his mother’s gaze, stars still spinning around his head. He searched her face as she looked back at him, her features devoid of shock or repentance – all she had for him was fury. Cold, hard, bitter fury; it was the same look she’d given him as a child before each beating, and he didn’t have to guess what was coming next.

[lunaticus-platina]

Right so… you’re the one… at the top of the well… with the rope… and… Yes! I thought that was obvious.

The Quarry (2022)

[lunaticus-platina]

I'm thinking maybe I could do some writing for a few days, before I get too busy again. I'm gonna do oneshots or something shorter, gimme ideas. Ask me stuffs, request me stuffs.

[lunaticus-platina]

Unfortunately, now my new pfp.

I remember someone saying why aren't hacketts using a hunting dog for their search for Silas. What do you mean? They have a family hunting dog right there! Every full moon for 6 years. How loyal!

[lunaticus-platina]

😏

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'VE BEEN CRABBED

[lunaticus-platina]

"But I am so angry with myself now because I cannot do what I should like to do, and at such a moment one feels as if one were lying bound hand and foot at the bottom of a deep, dark well, utterly helpless."

- Vincent Van Gogh, from the letter he sent to his brother Theo on January 26, 1882

[lunaticus-platina]

The way my brain immediately went into overdrive and started bringing up all my dusted Travis Hackett character analysis posts before I disappeared is borderline insanity. If I wrote my case study reports like this I would've gotten good grades all those years ago LOL.

So, i had the idea of trying to understand Travis a bit more deeply, by doing research and other stuff. I feel like we know so little about him, his personality, why he behaves the way he does, why is he afraid of his parents, etc. most of the time i can't feel him when i read fics, like "is he like this? would he do this?" i feel kind of in the dark

to help with that I asked someone who is an academic, she teaches creative writing i guess and she knows all about creating characters, the why's and how's etc. (she knows bascially all about csi and its characters, especially grissom x sara) so she gave me tons to start with.

and i was wondering if anyone would like to help with that, or is curious about Travis in that way and would like to join. sometimes we will have to read the character like we would in real life and i'm not good with that, still learning so someone to help would be nice. oh and it's important to be unbiased about him, it's not what we want, it's what it is.

if you're interested let me know