#And the one on the right is for my grandpa (he’s a beekeeper)

[sdvvillagers]

I always thought of Linus as parental figure for my foraging-freak farmer. He shares deep forest's secrets with her, he taught her the art of beekeeping, so they are naturally bonding over apprecitating nature. He was farmer's grandpa's friend, so even if he's a loner, he has a soft spot for his patchwork granddaughter. I always feel like Linus is a bit underrated by SDV fandom, so could we give him some love? Do you have any headcanons about his past and present in the Valley? (｡◕‿‿◕｡)

Aaww, I love that!  It’s honestly one of my favorite things ever to see how people integrate their OCs into Pelican Town and the relationships they forge with the villagers in town apart from marriage candidates.  It’s always good to see some Linus love.  And I LOVE the idea that the farmer’s grandpa was friends with him, I’m sure it makes their bond that much more special.  I’ve always hc’d that the farmer’s grandpa was friends with Lewis and George, I’ll be honest it never once occurred to me that he very well could have been great friends with Linus and that just warms my heart.

I do think you’re right, Linus is incredibly underrated.  The first time I ever played, he was actually my favorite villager of the non-marriage candidates and the one I befriended the quickest.  I’d always stop by to see him on my way to the mines with whatever goodies I’d foraged and we gained hearts very quickly as a result.  I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for Linus; my very first SDV friend.

This hc is not mine, though I’m not sure whose it is.  It’s one I heard a long time ago and fell in love with.  Someone came up with the idea that Linus actually used to work as a higher-up at Joja Co and lived quite a well-off life in the city as a Joja executive.  I think I’ve even heard variations where he was the CEO.  Basically, once he realizes how corrupt Joja has become and how far gone the company is, he can’t live with the guilt of working for them any longer.  He quits his job, leaves the city, and never looks back.  Over the years he lives a more humble life free from the materialistic lifestyle of the city and over time, lives a life that is more and more modest until he ends up in the valley.  That’s always been a favorite hc of mine.  It’s somewhat supported, there are actually unused sprites in the game of Linus clean-shaven with jet black hair wearing a suit.  Maybe this hc isn’t so far off from what ConcernedApe had in mind for his past.

(also, to you and to others who’ve sent in asks, I’m SO SORRY for how long it’s taking me to get to these!  Ack!)

[ihavetogogh]

alright, I wasn’t technically tagged in this, but @the-chesapeake-shipper did a vague-tag to all mutuals yesterday, and 🥺 I’m bored. thank u for ur generosity

rules: tag people you want to get to know better!

your name and then what you would have named yourself: well... coincidentally, i did choose my name a few years back. i’m darcy (yes, after mr. darcy. no, i do not regret it). HOWEVER there are times when i wish i had chosen a name that paid homage to my Japanese heritage. i recently learned that my mom had planned to name me kimiko hunaya and there are lots of days where i consider it because i know my great grandmother approved of it

astrological sign (sun/moon/rising if you know): will someone at a higher level of gay please teach me how to do this stuff???? i’m a capricorn, but i don’t know if that’s sun, moon, or rising

when did you join tumblr and why?: oh god.... way too young? i think i made my first blog in eighth grade. so 2011. mostly because i wanted to be an edgy tween reblogging quotes

top five fandoms: i have to narrow it down? this list is in a constant flux but at this exact moment: nbc hannibal, star trek, tolkien (i cant bring myself to say lotr while the silmarillion still holds most of my heart), the man from uncle, and x-men (but exclusively for erik’s turtlenecks)

top five favorite films: the normal heart, princess mononoke, star trek: the voyage home, the phantom thread, and the pride and prejudice 5 part mini-series that we’re all going to pretend is a movie because i never watch movies...

go to song when you want to Feel something: depends on what i need to feel, but if we’re talking about Yearning(TM), lover please stay by nothing but thieves

what’s your religion or faith if you have one?: i was raised mostly with catholic influences and some shintoism/buddhism. i vacillate between total nihilism and the concept of divinity in nature and the infinite cyclicality of energy and life??

a song that makes you feel seen: anything keaton henson has ever written? beekeeper is a very enduring song from when i was younger that still hits me right in the gut even if i dont feel the same way as i did back then. a more currently relevant song would be garden song by phoebe bridgers

if you could have any career: if i could be the person i want to be rather than the person that i am, i would be a university english professor, preferably at some old university where everything is a little drafty and the campus library has high ceilings and ghosts that stretch back to time immemorial. sharing a love for literature and storytelling has always appealed to me, and if i could, i would spend the rest of my life in academia

do you have a type: men who are too old for me and women who intimidate me 😔

what does your heart/soul yearn for?: faust. all i want right now is to sit down in my library with goethe, tchaikovsky playing in the background. where’s mephistopheles to give me a special witches brew so i have all the time in the world to glut on the passions of humanity?

if you had to describe yourself in 5 words to someone who doesn’t know you: book hoarding bisexual literature student???

favorite subject in school: english, but i also love history (especially art history)

where does your soul feel most at home?: sitting on the end of my grandparent’s crumbling dock, feet dangling in a lake that made it’s home in some scooped out part of the north cascade mountains. everything is still except the whisper of the air through the pine needles and the slap of water against the shore. my grandma and i had wine and charcuterie for lunch and now my grandpa’s talking about his painting—something that straddles the line between the familiar and the surreal. it’s a very comforting memory

top 5 fictional characters: aragorn, son of arathorn, king of gondor; hannibal lecter; jim kirk; thomasina from tom stoppard’s arcadia; lyra belaqua from his dark materials

top 3 moments in a show that made you ugly cry: did you mean when boromir dies in fellowship???? he’s such a tragic character, and sean bean was the perfect casting decision. uuuhmmmmm hannibal tenderly and erotically gutting will in his kitchen. it’s one hell of a sex scene, that. aaaand the ending of your lie in april. i have nothing else to say on the matter

the earth, the sun, the moon, or the stars: has to be the stars (moon, please forgive me....)

favorite kind of weather: when everything is poised on the edge of a storm. the air is perfectly still, and you can smell the rain and the lightning. the sun low enough that there’s nothing but a glow of light at the bottom of the cloud bank

top 3 characters you kin with: elizabeth bennett.... clearly; will graham.... less clearly; and leonard mccoy, ultimate mom friend

favorite medium of art: subtractive sculpture mediums, especially marble, and oil painting. give me all that classic art

introvert/extrovert/ambivert: i’m a big, dumb introvert

a favorite literary quote: i could... spend hours answering this. since i’m thinking of stoppard and his horribly underappreciated plays, we’ll go with my favorite quote from arcadia: “We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You do not suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of Alexandria, we would be at a loss for a corkscrew?”

some of your favorite books: the hobbit (tolkien), cloud atlas (david mitchell), the goldfinch (donna tartt), broken monsters (lauren beukes), the amber spyglass (phillip pullman), the paper menagerie (ken liu), the vintner’s luck (elizabeth knox), wuthering heights (emily bronte), pride and prejudice (jane austen), lolita (vladimir nabokov), crimson petal in the white (michel faber), sharp objects (gillian flynn), life after life (kate atkinson), the picture of dorian gray (oscar wilde), arcadia (tom stoppard), faust (goethe)

if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?: a townhouse in edinburgh scotland, someplace just big enough for all of my books and a dog and cat. or that town int he netherlands where there’s no cars and everyone gets around by boat. i don’t drive, so that sounds like such a dream??????

if you could live in any time in history, when would it be?: i don’t think i’d like living in any other time, honestly... as a nonbinary person... but i would love to pop into the victorian era for a visit. i want to sit in on a victorian salon, listen to poets read their work and look at art and just generally enjoy the beauty of it. but i wouldn’t like to live then for long

if you could play any instrument masterfully, which would it be?: the cello please and thank you

if you have one, what mythological god or goddess do you feel a connection to?: i vibe pretty hard with persephone...

oh my god, this is so long, but LASTLY, favorite recent selfie in your camera roll: two because why not?

[hadestownmodern]

Bee Man

Annika and I had very big feelings last night talking about Demeter and this man, and I can’t wait for you to read more about him because I love Demeter with everything I have, she is so special to me.            

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

  Demeter walks to the market feeling different-purposeful. She isn’t sure why; it’s a typical Saturday, the sun high in the sky and she’s feeling balanced. She’d finished her morning chores early, set herself up for a longer time to linger at the market. Having grown up with the tenuous, monotonous scheduling of city life, she finds solace in her attempts to break those habits in this renewed life. She wears a pair of loose cotton pants-made by a woman in the market who’d boasted of the lightweight, mildly see-through qualities of the fabric and had been absolutely right. She’d even hemmed them there, in the middle of the crowd, to fit Demeter’s willowy frame. Now, they’re her favorite pair of pants, printed with a neat sprawling of mandalas. She pairs it with a white bandeau and fringed kimono and immediately feels freed-her mother would have a stroke if she saw her now, she thinks with a smile. The proper expectations of city life would not have allowed for her bare midriff, for her wild, hip-length curls and fresh, nude face.

              There is a renewed sense of life here, a sense of belonging she hasn’t felt before. She finds herself often standing in the sun outside of her tiny home, closing her eyes and feeling her heart lift to the fresh air, the expanse of beautiful sky. She adores the hard work-her grandmother, of very old age when she’d passed and left the house to eighteen year-old Demeter, had left it with repairs to be done and crops to turn. But she’d read; pushed herself into her research and began building a routine that meant waking with the sun and sleeping early, finding new hobbies in embroidery and patching thrifted clothing. With a year of self-teaching and a long learning curve-with a list of chores and repairs dwindling then piling up again-Demeter has found herself perfectly fit in this life.

              She’s greeted by familiar faces from the moment she steps into the large field of carefully trimmed greenery that hosts tents and tables, local vendors beckoning her over to let her try their latest wares. There’s a seamstress-a woman from one of her favorite thrift stores, who holds a pair of light denim overalls to her and sighs with delight, asks her to try them on for a polaroid she’ll hang in their window display. Demeter lets the love-the community-sink in. She’s surrounded by friends in these people, like-minded humans who bustle from booth to booth in support, lifting each other up. Their community would not exist without these Saturdays, without the chilled-out atmosphere creating a platform for relationships and partnerships to be built and fostered.

              Nearly every face recognizes her now, and she spends a good deal of her time catching up with the faces she isn’t able to see as often during the week. It’s her version of church-of a spiritual connection, the healing of her soul. She sits in the grassy field with another girl, a bit older in age, and they share laughter and fresh cookies from a baker whose shop is in the center of town. They scan the rows of people, laughing and trading goods, comparing experiences with one another-then, her company turns, hitting her upper arm.

              “Who’s that?” Demeter turns at her friend’s questioning voice and looks across the market; there’s a new booth-a self-built table with neat hinges, no tent to keep the sun away. She can just make out the face of a man she’s never seen, hidden behind a gathering of other vendors who shake his hand as he sets his product out on the table.

              “I’ve never seen him before.” Demeter’s already stood up, brushing stray greenery and cookie crumbs from her pants before grabbing her canvas bag. “I’m going to say hi-want to come?”

              “He’s probably just another peddler looking to sell some kind of scheme-I’ll stay out of this one.”

              Demeter weaves through the crowd, that same sense of strange, undeniable purpose filtering itself back into her body-again, she lets it wash over her, unsure of why its power is so strong and consuming, making note to sit and think about it later on. Instead, she waits patiently behind the crowd at his booth, waiting her turn as vendors gift him bits of their own wares, try his product and shake his hand, welcoming. When they thin out, when it is only her standing wait, she lifts her hand and waves.

              “Hey,” He smiles at her, rows of perfect teeth and friendly eyes the color of moss. He wears a camel colored fedora and a cream colored shirt with three buttons, all but one undone. His features are sharp, yet camoflauged by the neatly kept beard and moustache combination that makes him seem as softer soul, yet more rugged. Demeter moves closer to his booth, which has been decorated with artfully drawn honeybees, each holding a sign boasting things like buy local and save us and “bee” kind. She nods at the art, then looks back at him. He’s tall-impossibly so, especially where she considers herself to be of average height.

              “Save the bees, eh?”

              “Save the bees.” He laughs, reaches a hand out to her. It’s large, calloused, dwarfing her tiny, newly work-worn ones as she greets him.

              “Demeter,” she introduces herself, a mass of long curls and blushed cheeks, of immediate knowledge as he nods back at her. His name is Theo-not Theodore, that was my grandfather-and he leans on his own booth as he answers her questions. His energy is warm, impossibly light and buoyant, reaching out to the entire market with a sort of charisma that has everyone stopping to give him a warm welcome.

              “I’m new to this-we never used to come out to these things, but we’re looking to branch out. Grandpa told me it was probably best if I go and not him ‘I’m too old,’ he said. ‘nobody wants to buy honey from a weird old man.’ He’s a good man, though-he’s friends with everyone he meets. I just hope I can be like that for him.”

              “Well, consider yourself one friend more today, then.” Demeter grins, and puts some money down on the table. “And a customer, too. I have to support all of the locals, and you’re in luck-I don’t happen to have a beekeeper yet.”

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ WELLINGTON PARANORMAL / 1.03 – 1.04 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

‘not my kind of music, either.’

‘you never know what you’re gonna get.’

‘could be a dog barking. could be a gangland shooter.’

‘it’s never a gangland shooter.’

‘you’d be surprised how quickly a game of twister can spiral into mindless violence.’

‘excuse us? the police?’

‘we all like fun, but what’s even more fun is quiet fun.’

‘hello? party people?’

‘let’s see what we can do to put an end to his purple reign.’

‘what i think you saw is some kind of interdimensional being.’

‘or possibly someone dressed as a cactus.’

‘no one’s lived in that house for forty years.’

‘i think the evidence points to... poltergeists.’

‘party ghosts?’

‘i saw a ghost once. that’s what turned my hair white.’

‘it also turned my pubes white. from fear.’

‘he’s talking about a crime. an unsolved crime.’

‘how did she know it was a crime?’

‘it’s about the money. he says not to worry about it.’

‘he says he’s proud of you.’

‘that is weird, actually. he’s still alive.’

‘there’s a couple of times he nearly did die.’ 

‘he shouldn’t have been a beekeeper, he went into anaphylactic shock.’

‘well he should have chosen a different profession, shouldn’t he?’

‘i’m really happy that your grandpa is still alive, but,’

‘i’m sensing that somebody definitely walked up this drive.’

‘she said not to worry about the money. i don’t know what money, but we don’t have to worry about it.’

‘i’m looking out for these so-called party ghosts.’

‘i’m sensing a really profound presence in this room.’

‘[in creepy ghost voice] it’s time to blow out the candle.’

‘i guess it’s a seventies ghost.’

‘confirmed, i’m a bit scared.’

‘i’m about to arrive at the scary toilet.’

‘if you were sitting on the toilet then you’d be sitting on my head right now because my head is in the toilet.’

‘there seems to be a message appearing on the mirror in what appears to be blood.’

‘sorry, i thought it was gonna be scarier than that.’

‘sometimes it’s a bathroom, and at other times it’s a 1970′s orgy in a hot tub.’

‘the party ended when a series of increasingly horrifying events took place.’

‘a man died when he got tangled up in a crochet blanket.’

‘the seventies crochet blanket ghost...’

‘asphyxiated by cheese...’

‘clearly a case of stocktaking syndrome, isn’t it?’

‘please just stay in the tub.’

‘it’s like dj vu.’

‘i must also inform you that you’re all deceased.’

‘often when you’re alive the light won’t pass straight through you like that.’

‘everyone just leave now and make your way to the afterlife.’

‘party ‘til you drop. just not after you drop.’

‘no touching, just look at it.’

‘you said it was trippy 23 times.’

‘the dog-- he was wearing jeans.’

‘i used to be a cat lady, but now i’m just... just a lady.’

‘what, like a ghost dog?’

‘have you seen how big dogs get these days?’

‘i can hold the taser if it’s getting heavy.’

‘just being hopeful.’

‘i was thinking it was kind of lupine, y’know. kinda wolf-like.’

‘what if it was a werewolf?’

‘it’s definitely a werewolf!’

‘we have reason to believe the perpetrator is a werew-- a ware... house worker.’

‘all of my ex-girlfriends have had nothing but nice things to say about me.’

‘it’s a full moon tonight. gonna be a lot of crazies.’

‘not another haunted sock, is it?’

‘the last thing i remember i was having a whiskey, and these were jeans.’

‘the point is, sometimes dogs wear jeans.’

‘i’m afraid this one is another haunted sock.’

‘i noticed there was a distinct dog owner smell.’

‘she wasn’t being chased by a werewolf. she is a werewolf.’

‘that’s why a lot of werewolves live here. it’s always cloudy.’

‘restrain the subject; she will become extremely murderous.’

‘don’t just assume because it’s a werewolf that it’s a man.’

‘just, uh. hiding in some bushes.’ 

‘do werewolves climb trees?’

‘do you think she’ll eat me or the sausage roll?’

‘i’ll sit down when i wanna sit down.’

‘your ex is a werewolf?’

‘that’s why i had to break up with him, y’know. he’s so changeable.’

‘let’s go fuck the patriarchy uuuuup!’

‘he’s just a guy with a ponytail.’

‘taser situation! taser situation!’ 

‘it’s not safe in there at the moment, but out here it’s feeling pretty good.’

[heartlandians]

In Deep Water (Lou/Peter Fanfic) pt 115

A tragedy is bringing a couple in the verge of separation back together. A/N: Spoilers up to 8x18. This was inspired by something someone said while they were filming mid-season episodes for season 9. * * * *

The next morning, Amy was walking through the barn with Ben and showing him around. She felt a little silly introducing places to him, but then again Ben had not been at Heartland for eight years, some things might have changed since then and not only that, he might have forgotten a lot, seeing every ranch and stable had their own way of doing things. Heartland, especially, differed from some ways simply because of their natural approach to horsemanship.

“And here are the residents”, Amy said, walking through the aisle, pointing left and right toward the empty stalls. “Harley, Spartan, Phoenix and Grandpa’s new horse Buddy. Spartan, as you know, is my horse, Harley is Ty’s horse and Phoenix belongs to Georgie - who you met last night while we were having cake.”

Last night when they had had cake, had made Amy feel like in some way it seemed like no time had passed since Ben had been here. But seeing him being introduced to Peter and Georgie made Amy realize a lot of things had changed since then - just like both of them had, even if Ben still felt familiar to her.

“Georgie also has two other horses, Trouble and Checkers. She uses Checkers for trick-riding, Phoenix and Trouble mostly for jumping, but also for trick-riding sometimes, depending on the trick. But as for others, they are pretty much Western horses and help around with the ranch work. The rest of the horses we keep out. Sometimes we rotate these guys and other horses, depending what’s going on or if someone needs a special attention”, Amy explained. “For example, we would have one of my client horses, Merlin, inside, but he’s afraid of the bees we have outside the barn doors and is kind of hesitant to come in, so we don’t want to stress him too much by keeping him close to the hornets. Besides, he likes it outside, so it works for all of us.”

Ben glanced toward the main doorway where Ty was on a ladder, wearing a protective suit and checking something from the wall. Ben assumed it had something to do with the bees as Amy had pointed toward him when she had talked about the insects, and Ben could recall seeing a suit like that on some beekeeper once.

“Okay”, Ben said, nodding a little, letting Amy know he had taken it all in.

“So... any questions?” Amy checked as Ben seemed thoughtful.

“No. Well, other than where can I start?” Ben asked.

“We keep our weekly and daily routine here on the blackboard”, Amy replied, stepping closer to it, “so you can see the times and general idea what needs to be done every day or weekly. There’s also contact information to Scott Cardinal’s clinic; he’s our vet, but so is Ty. They work together as partners.”

Ben kept on nodding, looking at everything that was written on the board. 

“All the horses are out now, so you could start by cleaning the stalls. When it’s time to bring the horses in, I will help you, so you get to know who is who and a little bit something about them.”

“Cleaning stalls - sounds like a simple way to start”, Ben figured, smiling a little.

“Great. I’ll be outside if you need me”, Amy said, feeling relieved that she had help. Knowing she could work with Merlin without having to worry about the dirty stalls and other piling tasks, gave her better state of mind for approaching Merlin’s situation.

She stepped outside through the office door so she wouldn’t interrupt Ty or risk herself getting stung. 

“How’s it going?” Amy asked when she stood safely away from the nest Ty was trying to get rid off. The man came down from the ladder, holding a sprinkle bottle.

“Well, I think they are gone”, he said, putting down the bottle and then removing his head piece. “I think Mrs. Bell’s tricks worked; I mean, it makes sense now, but I never realized the bees might leave because they hate pungent smells so much. I have a new found appreciation for garlic powder”, he added, grinning. 

“So, will you be removing the hive soon?” Amy asked. 

“Yeah. I will check the hive one more time at dusk and if I don’t see any of them, I will remove it after my shift”, Ty assured. “And I will return the suit back to Mrs. Bell.”

“Good. I’m sure Grandpa and Dad are glad to get back to working on the loft without having to worry about the bees”, Amy said, sighing out of a relief. “I’m just glad Mrs. Bell was able to help. I figured if anyone would have an idea about how to get rid of the hive, it would be her since she has her own bees. I didn’t like the idea of spraying them with some kind of poison. Not only because of the bees themselves, but also because of the horses. I’d like to keep this place as natural as it can be. A smell of garlic won’t do much harm - besides making me crave for garlic bread”, she added, smiling. “And I’m sure Merlin will feel better about the barn too now that his enemies are gone.”

“How’s it going with him, by the way?” Ty asked, cleaning after himself. 

“Great, actually. I think I might call Jim later today if everything goes well with Merlin’s session. I would like to ask him and his daughter to drop by before I let him get the horses back, just to make sure they really do get along and they can feed the horse safely. I was also thinking of going to their place after that, to see how the transition goes. It might be fine here, but then at home... it might not.”

“You’re so throughout”, Ty said appreciatively. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to get Merlin back.”

“Yeah. It’s good to see him doing better”, Amy agreed. “I’m going to miss him, though”, she admitted.

“So... if Merlin’s doing better and you’re not having any other client horses at the moment, does that mean that we might... make that trip to see my mom?” Ty asked carefully, still hoping Amy was up for it as she had promised.

Amy shrugged a little. “Yeah, why not. I could take few days off, especially now with Ben helping me.”

“Okay, great. I’ll make sure that’ll work with the shifts at the clinic, too. When would you say would be a good time?” Ty checked, undressing himself from the protective suit.

“Maybe on Friday?” Amy suggested. “Just so I don’t add too much pressure on Merlin because I feel like I’m on a hurry to get somewhere with him. And that gives me enough time to work with Jim and his daughter, too.”

“Okay, Friday sounds good. We could make a weekend trip out of it”, Ty said, trying to stay positive even if he hated visiting rehab centers. “But, I gotta run. I will see you after work.”

He gave Amy a quick peck on the lips and removed the ladder from the doorway so no one would trip on them. Amy glanced after him, feeling like pieces were finally falling into their place.

* * * *

When Amy was working with Merlin at the big pen with Spartan - and getting great results - from the corner of her eye, she could see Ben staring at them as he was getting rid of the stool with the help of a wheel-barrel. It was not unusual for people to come and stop by to watch her work, but since it had been a while since Ben had been here, Amy wondered if he was open to her methods or if he still didn’t completely believe in them.

Amy tried not to let it get to her as it should not matter what Ben thought of her methods as long as they worked, but part of her still wanted to know what his opinion was, seeing he was going to be working here and he would be representing Heartland, just like anyone else here. If he was going to be around clients, he needed to sound like he believed the methods they used here were the right thing to do, especially if they came across with a hesitant client. 

One wrong word from him in a wrong place could make some real damage and set the horse at danger if the owner decided to seek help from someplace else.

“You can come closer if you want to”, Amy said, somewhat appreciating that Ben had understood to keep his distance as one could never know how client horses would react to strangers. Thankfully at this point it was safe to say Merlin would not mind as Amy had tested him in every single way she could think of. These sessions with him were more about making sure the horse knew to stick to the behavior that was preferred.

“Oh, it’s okay, I’m still kind of in the middle of something anyway. Gotta get these stalls cleaned, you know”, Ben said, picking up the wheel-barrel and continuing back to the stall. 

“Okay”, Amy replied, appreciating Ben’s work ethic, but wondering if there was more to it. Maybe she could talk to him later when he wasn’t busy, to see how he felt about this all. “Alright, boys”, she then talked to horses. “Looks like you did a good job here today. And Merlin doesn’t mind sharing his food at all.” 

She reached out her arm to their bucket, and both of the horses knew to move their heads away out of respect for her. Hopefully Merlin would realize that his owner and his daughter only wanted a mutual respect with him, too.

* * * *

After Amy had returned the horses back to their outdoor pens, she pulled out of her phone, hoping to call Jim Locklear to let him know Merlin would be ready to come home soon. 

As she was about to search for his number, her phone began ringing. It was an odd number which put her plans with the phone call on hold. 

“Amy Fleming”, she answered the phone after bringing it onto her ear. 

“Hello, is this Amy Fleming, the horse whisperer?” a young man’s voice from the other end asked. 

“Yes, this is her.”

“I’m calling because I saw your flyer at this diner, Maggie’s”, the man explained. “See, I’m having a problem with my horse. I don’t really know what’s going on with him. Ever since I got back home from this... long trip, I’ve not been able to read him properly. It’s kind of hard to explain, which is why I thought I could maybe stop by and ask for your opinion. Maybe you could help.”

“Yeah, sure”, Amy said, already walking toward the barn office so they could schedule an appointment. “When would be a good time for you?” 

“Ah, how about Thursday?” the man suggested.

“Oh, uhm...” Amy was hesitant as she didn’t know what really was wrong with this horse and how long it would take. “I don’t really know if that’ll work. How about next week?” she suggested, walking to get her calendar. “On Monday?”

“Oh, I was hoping we could do this quicker”, the man said, sounding disappointed. “I have this thing next week and Thursday-Sunday is the only time available for me. I know I shouldn’t be the one making the demands, seeing I’m the beggar, but I just want to help Maverick as soon as possible. Like, maybe it’s something I keep missing, or... Like some minor thing. I’ve heard you can do miracles.”

Amy hummed a little. She didn’t know if her title “Miracle Girl” was starting to become more of a burden at this point, because people in fact did expect her to perform miracles when it wasn’t always as simple as that. Then when things took time, people wondered if she was a Miracle Girl after all.

“Okay, you can bring him on Thursday”, Amy then promised. It could be something minor that this man was missing and the horse could be back home on the same day, or if it took time, it would just have to wait over the weekend. “How about 2 pm?” 

“Sounds great.” The man sounded pleased now.

“Okay, Thursday, 2 pm. And what was your name?” Amy asked.

“Oh, right, I didn’t even introduce myself. Sorry. The name’s Cutty, Mitch Cutty.”

“Mitch Cutty and Maverick. Great”, Amy said, penning down the appointment. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Great. Have a good day.”

“You too. Bye.”

Amy then proceeded to call to Jim Locklear, not thinking too much about the previous client call.

[grantcontrol]

The Beekeeper ◈ solo

Timing: Sunday Evening (February 2, 2018 ◈ April 4, 2021) Location: A Small Sleepy Town >>> Outskirts of White Crest >>> Anton’s place Summary: On a Sunday evening, in a small sleepy town, the Beekeeper sits beside a child, bruised and battered, behind them his farm ablaze. Back in White Crest, Anton reminisces about a story his grandfather used to tell him as a hunt comes to a close. He has honey and banana sandwich for breakfast. Content: Spiders and bee stings, implied arson and murder, terrible superhero references

It was a Sunday evening just outside a small sleepy town far away from White Crest, yet the darkness and the strangeness were all too familiar in both places, to denizens off. As a child, scared and scarred, sat on the ground, cradling her knees as tightly as she could, the Beekeeper joined her, himself bruised and battered, behind them his farm ablaze, wailing flames reaching towards the night sky as if desperate for that wicked touch, the only source of light from miles away.

“Smoke’s dangerous,” he warned her, eyes towards the far horizon, as she turned to him, slowly, carefully, loosening her embrace over her knees. All things considered, the Beekeeper was the least monstrous of the things she has seen and experienced tonight. Light blue eyes, now void of innocence, stuck to him, his face rugged and unkempt, a part of his beard singed and at the same time wet with red. Without looking towards her, he heaved a sigh, shaking his head, as he took one last puff from his dying cigarette. “It distracts the honey bees, calms them, removes the panic, the need to warn the hive.”   

Oh, come on, bee, and tease the moon with me. If only you’ll agree, I’d be your honey bee. 

The next morning, as the sheriff and his deputy finally found the time to drive outside the town, continuing their search for the missing girl, they arrived at the property they were all too eager to ignore, where something they never tried to understand, or ever would, had taken root. They were too late, however: The Beekeeper and his bees were nowhere to be found. All that remained was the child, the cinders of his farm, and the corpse of the unfortunate serial killer who came to town a few days ago and targeted the child and her friends.

◈ ◈ ◈

“Now that,” Anton grinned as he drove his spear right into the overgrown spider’s stomach, the creature skittering and chattering, its legs flailing in the air as it struggled to try and survive the hunter’s assault. “...is one fucked up story my grandpa used to tell me.” He groaned as he twisted his weapon, its blade damaging what it could as it stayed inside the spider, unleashing disgusting squelching that no normal person could ever tolerate. Thankfully, Anton was not normal. “It’s my favorite, though.”

His confession was followed by more skittering and chattering from behind him, yet to no avail, as another creature made the remaining spiders its prey. With the voraciousness of one of its namesake beasts, Leon the formicaleon ripped through their quarry with its oversized mandibles, pinning the survivor against the ground, and like a living guillotine, turning one into two horizontally through its stomach. Anton grimaced at the sight before triumph’s urging reminded him to smile. Leon paid him no attention and continued the work.

Tracking the creatures forced them to waste the better third of the day, with another third spent in fighting the damned things. Even though Leon was still a little skeptical, for a lack of a better term, of him, clicking and at one point even snapping at Anton, the exterminator who inherited his grandfather’s business and partner still took it as a first great step in becoming a well-oiled hunting machine. “We can be White Crest’s dynamic duo, me and you, Leon. Batman, or maybe Ant-Man, and his trusty sidekick, Robin, or like… Who’s Ant-Man’s sidekick again? Wait, is he the sidekick?”

Their conversation was cut short when, after dragging one of the spider corpses from the cave to their white van, because hunters and their trophies, Anton elected to pay more attention to Leon’s uninterested reaction than the door of his van. It swung open, all right, as it normally did, but what happened next, the exterminator did not expect: A giant man, half-naked, face and torso covered in bee stings, jumped out from his van and lunged at a screaming Anton.

◈ ◈ ◈

“AAAAAHHHH!!!” Anton sat straight up on his bed, clutching his sheets around his own naked torso as tightly as he can, as beads of sweat littered his face and body. Panting, he looked around him and slowly calmed down when he realized he was back in his own bed. “Just… A fucking nightmare?” Anton shook his head, remained sitting, as he loosened his grip on his sheets, his hands finding their way towards his face, as he combed his messy mane back. He was almost at peace when suddenly he heard knocking at his bedroom door. The exterminator gulped, grabbed his sheets again, and silenced himself. A pause, before the knocking continued. “W-who is it?”

The door loudly swung open, giving Anton a second-long heart attack, before a familiar face, devoid of no other emotion than boredom, walked in: The young female receptionist he also inherited from his grandfather. It was a strange thing, reading from the old man’s will that the girl came with the business, and stranger still when Anton himself investigated and found out she had a normal family with no ties to their other business. When she reached the side of his bed, the girl sat down without any invitation and showed Anton her swollen finger. “Bee stung me.”

For a moment or two, Anton just sat there, wearing only his sheets and a pair of underpants, just staring at the unusual girl who either trusted him enough to be alone in the same room with him or more probably didn’t consider him much of a threat to be worried about her safety. Heaving a sigh, the annoyed exterminator shook his head and tried to take her hand but the girl took it away before he could. “Already found and took the stinger. Cleaned it, too. Just wanted you to know that’ll cost you extra.”

And then she was off, out of there as quickly as she had appeared, slamming the door behind her closed. Anton groaned and forced himself back on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, his mind wandered back to the dream, the nightmare. Yet the exterminator didn’t really dwell in such things, if only out of curiosity. He turned to his bedside clock that was in the form of a cartoon honey bee and squinted at the time. It was still too early.

Before he could turn his head around and go back to sleep, however, he noticed something beside the clock. Reaching for it, he realized it was a sandwich wrapped in foil, and no sooner did he get both hands wrapped around it that he was already eating half of the thing. “Honey and banana sandwich?” He smiled. It was his favorite. “...freaky child.”

[END]