#HELL OWIN

[awesomecooperlove]

🦹🏿🤘🏿👹

[hareofhrair]

Art from the most recent ask in its own post. Shafan has a run in with a clown.

story under the cut

HH: =oh i've had run ins with m=ore'n a few cl=owns, n=one of em pleasant.

HH: best =one was a sweep =or s=o back. i was cruisin this lil shindig a friend =of a friend was thr=owin

HH: m=ost everyb=ody there was a rusty, but tha thing ab=out thr=owin a g=o=od party is

HH: cl=owns will just sh=ow up

HH: they just manifest there =or s=omethin s=o=on as things really kick off

HH: like the way bleatbeasts just show up at metal c=oncerts

HH: anyway everyb=ody kn=ows y=ou thr=ow a big en=ough party yer runnin tha risk a cl=owns deciding ta crash it

HH: but generally speakin cl=owns aint subtle and when they sh=ow up ya kn=ow what's happenin

HH: s=o i'm at this party and havin a real g=o=od time

HH: maybe a lil drunker than I =ought ta be

HH: when i sp=ot this Big B=oy lurkin in a c=orner b=o=oth

HH: and yall kn=ow i like em big

HH: s=o i slide in and intr=oduce myself

HH: i feel it's imp=ortant ta menti=on here that the lightin in this place was n=ot s=o g=o=od

HH: and als=o my eyesight leaves a lil s=omethin ta be desired

HH: by which i mean im blind as tha pr=overbial flyin squeakbeast

HH: s=o between that and bein pretty sl=oshed i d=ont n=otice anythin suspici=ous ab=out this gentleman

HH: i start talkin ta tha fella, and he's a bit quiet, aint sayin much

HH: but that's fine i can run my m=outh en=ough fer tha b=oth a us, and i d=o

HH: lil while later, i get ta askin him if he w=ouldn't like ta walk me h=ome, if ya gather my meanin

HH: he says that s=ounds like fun, and we slip =out tha back a tha j=oint

HH: i'm hangin =off his arm, havin tr=ouble walkin straight, when I l=o=ok up an get my first g=o=od gander at tha guy under a streetlight

HH: and i see greasepaint, and a big =ole grin

HH: that'll s=ober a fella up p=owerful fast let me tell ya

HH: n=ow i mighta just g=one al=ong with tha guy and b=olted at tha first good excuse

HH: but apparently i was t=o=o drunk ta manage my facial expressi=ons, cus he sees h=ow i'm l=o=okin at him and his smile if anythin just gets wider.

HH: finally n=oticed, did ya? he says. that mean i cain't walk ya h=ome n=o m=ore? =oh well, tha =other way w=oulda been m=ore fun, but we can still have a g=o=od time.

HH: and he drags me =off int=o an alley and pulls o=ut a club, ready ta splatter me acr=oss tha pavement like a p=opped water bal=o=on

HH: but i tend ta babble when i'm scared, and all =of a sudden i say

HH: hell nah, y'all can't kill me like this, it ain't even funny!

HH: where's tha w=ordplay? tha creativity?

HH: yer just g=onna smash me with a club in an alleyway?

HH: where's tha fuckin craftsmanship? where's tha art?

HH: and that actually makes him st=op fer a minute

HH: and he just l=o=oks at me fer a bit, an then he says

HH: kn=ow what, yer right. Culls =ought ta be gl=ori=ous in tha sight a tha messiahs =or s=ome shit

HH: and i say hey ya kn=ow what w=ould be funny

HH: im a real fast runner, faster than hell

HH: and there's a train what comes thr=ough here right at sunrise

HH: let's say y=ou challenge me t=o a race with tha train

HH: and if I beat it, y=ou let me g=o

HH: he starts sayin nah i aint just lettin y=ou run =off i aint that dumb

HH: and i say =of c=ourse, that's the funniest part

HH: bef=ore the train c=omes, ya tie my feet t=o tha tracks!

HH: he says h=ot damn yer right that is fuckin funny

HH: gets right giggly imaginin me tryin ta run and gettin flattened like an old penny

HH: so we head =on =over t=o tha train tracks

HH: and i say wait h=old =on, we need s=ome supplies first

HH: supplies, he says?

HH: i say yeah well, we need r=ope =obvi=ously, and an umbrella

HH: he says, an umbrella?

HH: i say =o c=ourse an umbrella, i t=old ya tha train c=omes right at sunrise. ya d=ont want ta be standin there burnin in tha sun iffin tha train is late, d=o ya?

HH: and he says yer right yer right i d=ont care fer sunburns

HH: s=o he gets s=ome r=ope and a big black umbrella and we get =on tha tracks and he start's tyin my feet t=o tha tracks, but he's kinda strugglin because he's h=oldin tha umbrella at tha same time

HH: and i say hang o=n, ya can't tie it like that, it's g=onna slip right o=ff. here, let me sh=ow ya, i learned s=ome sailin kn=ots fr=om a c=obalt that never c=ome l=o=ose

HH: So i start sh=owin him h=ow ta d=o it, but he ain't gettin it, s=o i say here, i'll tie my =own feet, and y=ou watch and practice =on your =own feet.

HH: s=o he starts tyin his =own feet ta tha tracks, but he's still fumblin =on acc=ount =of h=oldin tha umbrella, s=o i say, ya need b=oth hands, here let me h=old that f=or ya

HH: and he says thanks and hands me the umbrella and g=oes back ta tyin his feet ta tha tracks.

HH: n=ow =of c=ourse ab=out that time tha sun starts ta c=ome up, and right =on time the train whistle s=ounds in tha distance

HH: and tha cl=own l=o=oks up

HH: by which p=oint i'm already ab=out half a bl=ock away, runnin like hell itself is =on my heels

HH: but i was still cl=ose en=ough ta hear that m=otherfucker laughin, laughin like ta bust a gut, right up till tha n=oise a tha train dr=owned him =out

[onegreybun]

You Called? [Prompt 15, Part 2]

(Themes of abduction and physical abuse of a child ahead. Written as 'reflected upon', not detailed or present tense.)

Kouka had gotten to see the very worst in people from an early age.

His name wasn't 'Kouka' back then. It was some Ishgardian frivolity, the many syllables of traditional names trickling down from high society into the Brume. An awful part of their culture, he always thought.

His story was, as far as Coerthan tales go, fairly common. A child born of noble and wench, fated to the lowest parts of the city and orphaned soon after his fifth year. Survival was as basal as it could have been, back then. Food came through a young brunette girl's charity and his own pickpocketing theft. Shelter came in the form of knowing what crevices he could fit into. Warmth came from finding hiding spots where he could linger around the fires. The lowborns would ignore his presence, for the most part, and the highborns only ever had beatings to give him. He had learned to keep his head down, refuse eye contact, and move quickly.

However, one night he couldn't move quickly enough. Even now the details of his capture remained blurry, but he knew it to be the curse of the half-nobility in his blood that caused it. Gloved hands seized him from the streets and brought him to the cellars of a corner estate. A child of ten years couldn't understand why he had been kept there for so many days. Neither could the physician called to keep him alive after a beating nearly bled him dry.

He had never learned the physician's name. He only knew that, suspiciously, once he was able to stand again the door that barricaded his hopes and freedom had been unlocked. The fear of the whip was secondary only to his fear of enduring this hell indefinitely. With shaking hands and stumbling feet, that boy had somehow crawled from the cellars and made it out of the servant's hatch. From the servant's hatch he had sprinted to the side entrance, flying into the streets of Ishgard.

He hadn't bothered to plan it. He just knew that one moment he was running to the front iron gate, and the next he was screaming and crying as the stone road turned into dirt trails.

Free.

Carrying himself, his clothing, and wounds that were already turning to scars, the boy had made it to the treeline before collapsing. Waking in a cot several hours later, he learned that two hunters had found him and tended to him. Katrine and Kourcelle, a sister and brother who lived in the forelands of Dravania. Food was given on wooden plates. Shelter was given with tents and outposts. Warmth was given with a campfire next to his bed every night.

And, most importantly, security was given to him with a spear and extensive training. He had simply been known as 'boy' for the years he was one. Once age had carried him through to his growth, he became 'Kouka' in honor of the only people he had ever been able to think of as family.

With two and a half decades, and with Katrine and Kourcelle's passing, Kouka had found himself adrift for a while. The only person who bothered to keep in touch with him had been Viv, whom he had guided to New Sharlayan years and years ago. Knowing no other option, Kouka trekked into the pines and city. He knew his lack of basic literacy would make him an unwelcome visitor in that erudite complex, but that was fine. He had no intention to do anything other than visit.

He had stayed longer than he thought he would, and that's how he met Ben. A quiet, towering stablehand who valued his solitude, but one that had grown attached to the young, loudmouthed scullery girl who worked in the same house. And after a little while, that fellow had grown attached to Kouka, too. With the silent giant on his left and his bossy best friend on his right, Kouka started to have a new reason each day to stick around.

A few years would pass before he got to meet Owin. The hyur was a little bit younger than he was, one of many sons in a family of scholars. Kouka had often heard him described as 'the failure who liked to fish'. Well, Kouka liked to fish, too. Sitting side by side with the plucky youth, he found out that Owin had a hell of a mind for investigation. According to him, when everybody thought you worthless they also thought you were harmless. It had led to a very interesting holiday where Owin delivered several very damning letters to very important individuals about his family's very sordid track record regarding their academic achievements. Or, rather, their falsified accomplishments.

That was a really good reason to stick around.

As he broke into the years of his thirties, Kouka would meet Laurrente, a noble who escaped in defiance of his corrupt family. And then, Anoitte, a quiet cleaning girl who worked in the same brothel house as Viv. A few months before he hit his thirty fourth year, he met Piper, an energetic teenager with a passion for botany as well as a constant 'outside-voice'.

Thus, the small seeds of found family came to grow from their little group of rejects and runaways. Comfort was found in conversations. Home was found in presence. Life was found in greetings, in lunches, and in nights under the stars.

And then he met Marceau.

[dis--parity]

"It's like people hear the word 'witch' and automatically think I'm going to balance their energies and sell them essential oils. I swear to god, essential oils just smell good."

『🥐』 “Yeah, well, there’s a whole stigma ‘round that whole line of business, ain’t there? Or, ah... system of beliefs, I mean.” He’s not exactly one to comment on the situation his friend finds himself in, mainly on account of their different beliefs, but at the very least, he can share his own observations from the years he’s had to simply observe and reflect.

“I reckon the guilty party in that whole state of affairs are them multi-level marketin’ companies, them pyramid schemes. Them things like Amway, LuLaRoe, an’... what’s it called, uh, Haemolife? I think I heard that was one of ‘em. Anyway, m’ point is–” He takes a moment to raise a hand to his chin in reflection as he lets out a disgruntled sigh. “–an’ so we’re clear on this, this ain’t reflective of my opinions - people who look into this kinda thing’re sexist as all hell, ‘n’ since it’s mostly women they see advertisin’ fer them companies, and then owin’ t’ the fact that  ‘witch’ got turned into some kinda feminine term, even when it ain’t, that’s where the association comes from. But, the way I see it, every day you keep on keepin’ on with bein’ yerself ‘n’ doin’ yer thing, yer provin’ em wrong, pardner. Keep at it.”

[shinjukuspiritcommittee]

Tetsuya Summon Day HC

(Inspired by a post by natton on Twitter!)

A Gift for Tetsuya

~Upon entering the Kabukicho Ward you were immediately met with the person you came to see. Tetsuya intercepted your path and made it clear this was purely for business. “I got your message…” He explained. “Whaddya want?” You flashed a smile and told him happy summon day. “T-The hell…?” He was off put by your joy and surprised at the fact that you knew what day it was. “H-How’d you know today was-” You assured him that you have your ways. “Hmph. Guess you’re more trouble than you’ll let on.” Despite his gripes he didn’t seem all too bothered by you taking the time out of your day to visit him.

~You handed him the gift you made from scratch. You knew that a something store bought wouldn’t taste as good. “You made this… for me?” Tetsuya seemed genuinely shocked at your gift. You asked if that was okay since you weren’t sure what his favorite was so you just went with your gut on this one. Tetsuya stared at you, down at the open box, then back to you. “Uh… thanks.” His face became beet red. You became concerned for his health when you saw his face heat up and asked if he was alright. “D-Don’t ask stupid things.” Tetsuya demanded. “Look just… thanks, okay?” When he thanked you you were finally to connect the dots that he was incredibly happy about your gift. “Hey, don’t get all googly eyed with me!” He stammered. Tetsuya then sad and took hold of your hand for a moment. “Listen, you seem… lonely. And I don’t like owin’ people. So I’ll keep ya company.” Tetsuya took out the pastry you made for him and took a bite. “Thanks, by the way…”

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 49

The trip east was fairly quiet, at least concerning my companions. The super mutants, raiders, Gunners, and ferals that make up Boston’s populace were as violent as ever. Ada is formidable, despite her convictions that her defensive capabilities should be improved. Valentine saved Cait from a Gunner’s missile, which she repaid by blasting her way through a pack of ferals that took him by surprise.

“Your contract’s with Holmes, not me!” he scolded her.

“Yer boyfriend and that wicked sword of his are fuckin’ fine!” The last feral fell, “Damn shamblers give me the creeps. There, now we’re even, you and me.”

Valentine was puzzled, “Even?”

“For knockin’ me out o’ the way of that tattooed cretin’s missile. I keep tellin’ Holmes, I don’t like owin’ debt to anyone.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Word of advice though, it’s bad manners to steal cigarettes off the guy you’re supposedly saving.”

Cait laughed, and tossed him the pack.

I decided that rather than attack General Atomics immediately, we should first stop by the Castle, as it was just south of the factory and the sun was already setting. We could rest and prepare, and alert the Minutemen to the Mechanist’s threat. As it turned out, the Minutemen were already aware of the hostile robots roaming the Commonwealth.

“General!” Ronnie Shaw greeted us as we entered, “Sure do have impeccable timing.”

That likely wasn’t a good sign. “Do I?”

“Just missed the Brotherhood vertibird dropping a messenger by our front door. Said their scouts had noticed you coming this way.” She held up a holotape, clearly annoyed if not offended that the Brotherhood would be spying on the area. “This is for you.”

I took the tape, labeled “For General Holmes Only” in block letters. “Before I deal with this, the reason I’m here is--”

“Robots.”

I blinked, “Yes.”

Shaw nodded, “Got word from Sanctuary, we’re scrambling reinforcements to every checkpoint and settlement near where they’ve been spotted. Can’t reinforce everywhere yet, spread us too thin, but we can at least bolster the known threat zones.”

“Ah. How did Sanctuary--”

“One of our provisioners was attacked, we let Sanctuary know. Then word came in from MacCready about robots at the Ironworks, and Colonel Garvey got right to work alerting everyone to keep an eye out for robots built from scrap terrorizing folks. Good commander, that Colonel of yours.”

I smiled, “I hope to justify his faith in me to be the same. We have a plan to find the person responsible for these robots. Ada,” I gestured to her, “believes that we will find some in the General Atomics factory north of here, and they might provide us with the information we need.”

“It’s a start at least.” Shaw glanced at the holotape in my hand, "Your quarters are as you left them."

I thanked her, and took the holotape to the quarters reserved for the General. My companions followed, Valentine because he was concerned, Cait because she was bored, and Ada because she had nowhere else to go. I played the tape on my Pip Boy.

 “This is Elder Maxson speaking to General Holmes. My reason for contacting you is two-fold. First, the situation between our organizations is reaching a breaking point. This truce cannot survive indefinitely. As I have no desire to declare war on the Minutemen, yet, I invite you to discuss the matter with me. Second, I have no doubt the Minutemen are aware of the hostile robots that have appeared in the Commonwealth. My Scribes have been unable to track their origin. You seem to have an uncanny ability to find that which is hidden. Therefore, I request your presence on the Prydwen to discuss the new threat to both Brotherhood and Minutemen forces in the Commonwealth, and to negotiate new terms between us to keep the peace. Bring your second and third in command with you, as a token of goodwill and to ensure that there is no miscommunication in the chain of command. I insist.”

The recording ended.

"If Maxson thinks you're delivering Danse on a silver platter," Valentine said, "he's flipped his lid."

"Having Preston and I there adds a level of security for Danse," I pointed out.

"Unless he wants to wipe out the whole Minutemen command at once."

"He knows the Castle's artillery would destroy the Prydwen at the first sign of foul play. I'll contact Sanctuary first thing in the morning and see if Danse can shed some insight on his former commander's intentions."

Danse and Preston’s reactions were as I expected when I told them about Maxson’s request.

“With all due respect, General,” Preston said over the radio, “what the fuck?”

“He is insistent that both you and the Lt. Colonel are present at the negotiations,” I said.

“No. There's--”

“Garvey,” Danse scolded, but Preston spoke over him.

“--no way this isn’t a trap!”

“With all three top ranking officers on board the Prydwen, Maxson is assured that the Minutemen will not strike at the Brotherhood,” Danse explained. “It’s a power play, a bit of arrogance perhaps, but it is not a trap. He will expect us to take precautions. If we do not contact the Minutemen after a set amount of time, then the Castle opens fire on the Prydwen. If Liberty Prime takes one step outside the airport, then the Castle opens fire on the Prydwen. Maxson will not risk his flagship being destroyed, especially not while he's still on it.”

I could hear Preston’s frown as he said, “I hate everything about this. This is not a good idea.”

“Good idea or not,” I said, “attending without you two will be taken as an insult, and could be the slim excuse Maxson needs to justify swift action.”

“Understood, General,” Danse said, ignoring Preston’s sigh, “We’ll meet you at the airport seventy-two hours from now.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.”

It was roughly a two day walk to the airport from the Castle, which gave us the day to investigate the General Atomics factory. We wasted no time; Ada wasn't certain what information we might find on the Mechanist's robots, if they were still in the factory, but it was the only lead we had and I had no intention of letting it slip through our grasp.

The Mechanist's robots were there, in greater strength than I'd expected. I was glad to have extra assistance. Cait barrelled through, recklessly but effectively blasting modified Mr. Handy's and eyebots out of the air while Ada's laser fire was a welcome addition to Valentine and my bullets against the robots on the ground.

Each eyebot was broadcasting a message:

 "Attention, people of the Commonwealth! I, the Mechanist, have come to bring about an age of peace. Do not be alarmed. These robots are your allies, your protectors, and they will not rest until the Commonwealth is saved. Together we will restore justice and bring about the dawn of a new age."

"Can't these things shut up!" Cait shouted.

"I think the Mechanist and I have very different definitions of the word 'saved,'" Valentine added.

"He can't actually mean any of that rot," Cait continued. "If he does, he's loony."

"Considering he built an army of scrapbots," Valentine grunted as his fight with what once may have been a protectron went to fisticuffs, "I'd say he's probably pretty nuts!"

Then the robobrain armored like a tank appeared. "Aim for the brain!" I shouted, dodging a swing of its tesla-coil arm. Ada and I fired as Cait and Valentine did their best to keep the other robots still standing occupied.

With a shudder and a crackle of electricity across its surface, the robobrain fell. Tense silence settled. When it was clear no more robots would be coming around any corners, we relaxed.

"What the hell is that thing?" Cait asked.

"It's called a robobrain," I said, "though I've never seen one so weaponized before." I'd only ever seen them inside the Vault near Far Harbor, and those were much smaller compared to this one.

She stepped closer, "Is that… is that a person's brain in there?"

I nodded, "It is."

"That's disgustin'."

"I agree."

“According to my data banks,” Ada said, “the robobrain was considered one of the most technologically superior robots ever constructed, but the model never reached full production status.”

"Wonder where this one came from," Valentine said.

Cait huffed, already bored by the conversation, "So how're we going to find the Mechanist with these heaps of junk?"

"We look for clues," I said, and got to work.

Ada, Valentine, and I searched the robots while Cait paced the room.

Valentine whispered to me, "Holmes, that woman has more psycho in her than is healthy."

"There's a healthy dosage of psycho?"

"You know what I mean. She took a hit, took a stimpak after snapping her arm back in place, and then took a second psycho for good measure. I'm amazed her heart hasn't exploded."

I sighed, "There's nothing I can do about it now, and I doubt she'll welcome conversation, especially with the state she's in."

"The crash ain't gonna be great either."

"What do you want me to do?"

He was quiet a moment, shaking his head. "I don't know. She's done her job so far, I'll give her that much, but she's gonna fall apart soon.”

"Are you detectives looking or flirting?" Cait shouted from across the room. "Hell of a lot more quiet chat than discovery goin' on."

"Jealous?" Valentine called back.

"Of you?"

“Enough,” I interrupted. “Ada, any luck?”

“I have not yet discovered a significant indicator of origin,” Ada reported.

“I’m going to look over the robobrain again,” Valentine said.

I approached Cait. “Valentine tells me you were injured?”

She was offended, “Stimpak patched me up just fine.”

“Good. And are you supplied for the trip north?”

"What?"

“Hey, Ada,” Valentine said, “My robot anatomy is a little rusty, but does this look like something interesting?”

He held up a device, which Ada examined. “Impressive technology. If my analysis is correct, this is a specialized radar beacon. I suspect it's how the Mechanist was keeping track of the robobrain. Thank you, Mr. Valentine, this may be exactly what we needed.” Ada turned to me, “As the next logical step, I need you to install this beacon within me so we can use it to our advantage.”

“Install it?” I admit, I balked at the prospect. Modifying weapons and armor, even building traps and turrets were one thing. Installing a radar beacon into a sophisticated robot seemed to be something else entirely.

“You'll need to use a robot workbench to ensure proper installation,” Ada explained. “I have the schematics. Do you want to return to the Castle to build it?”

“No,” I said, “not the Castle. There is an engineer out west who would be just the man for the job, and the location far enough away from the Brotherhood’s patrols to avoid attention.”

We decided that Valentine and Ada would leave for Sanctuary and tell Sturges about the robot workbench Ada’s creator invented, while Cait and I would make our way north to meet Danse and Preston at the airport. Valentine wasn’t thrilled with the plan, but he didn’t have a better suggestion, either.

I had already told Ms. Shaw about my meeting with Maxson before we left. As Danse suggested, I gave her explicit instructions for action to take should anything seem amiss. And so Cait and I started the walk north to the Prydwen.

[thatsouthernanthem]

soooo i wrote a fic for staci & maddy and decided that everyone should see it. actually, @lacedwithlilacs demanded everyone see it sooooo yeah!!

title: the best of you, the rest of you, honey belongs to me rated: explicit fandom: far cry 5 pairing: staci pratt x deputy (madalynn forrester)

She allows herself a smirk as she watches Rook follow Joey up the stairs before knocking back another shot of whiskey. They deserve a moment of happiness and Joey looks ten times better than she did when Maddy and Rook had split up and headed for the other Heralds. 

Maddy catches the falter in Rook’s step though, and the way Joey reaches out for him, her hand sliding around his arm to make sure he doesn’t fall. He looks about as well as you’d expect for someone who spent weeks at a time, for months, being tortured by Jacob Seed. She shudders and wiggles her empty shot glass at Mary May, sick at herself once again, for not getting there sooner. 

A body crowds into her space, huddling against her arm in the dim light, and though she can’t hear the words his lips are whispering to himself over the noise of the bar, Maddy can tell that Staci Pratt is close to having a breakdown. She catches a quiet strong, no weak, and carefully wraps her fingers around his wrist to catch his attention. 

“Hey,” she murmurs, pulling him down so his ear is by her lips. “Let’s go upstairs, just hang out where it’s quieter.” She doesn’t wait for a reply, turning to Mary May and pointing at the bottle of whiskey behind the blonde. “Add it to my tab?”

“If I was keepin’ tabs right now, Forrester,” Mary May grins as she slides the bottle and two glasses down the bar, “you’d be owin’ me for a long time. But hell, I owe you so it’ll all be even.”

Maddy mouths her thanks before grabbing the bottle around the neck and pressing the glasses into Staci’s shaking hands. “Hold onto these for me, ‘kay? We gotta pretend to be classy, at least for the first few drinks.”

His shoulders relax, just a tiny bit, and he huffs a soft noise she thinks might be a laugh. All that matters is when he looks at her, under his too-long hair, his hazel eyes are clearer than they were a moment ago. 

They wind their way through the crowd--the bar extra full of the friends they made in the Henbane River Valley and the Whitetails, full of the Resistance and Militia members who want to celebrate the end of Jacob Seed. She catches a glimpse of Nick and Kim in the corner, baby Carmina in her carseat on the table before them and she can’t blame them for bringing the four month old to the bar, not when you can’t let those you love out of your sight. She’s surprised when she skirts around Eli and Tammy--shocked that they’d leave the Wolf’s Den, even though the area is safer than it has been in years. 

Eli grins at her and lifts his beer in her direction, sliding his arm around Tammy’s back as he tries to pull her toward the crowded dance floor--Maddy can hear her protests over the thumping beat of Dorothy’s Raise Hell. 

Staci presses his hand into hers, pushing his clammy palm into hers, and she’s quick to grab his fingers, to squeeze reassuringly. Glancing over her shoulder as she starts up the stairs, she meets his eyes and smiles at him. “You okay? You can just go to bed if you want? Rook’s not usin’ his room tonight, I guarantee you that.”

“No,” Staci shakes his head, his jaw tightening for a moment as he lets go of her hand to graze his fingers against her hip and she swallows hard, his movements reminiscent of the moment they had in the Wolf’s Den. “No, I wanna...I need to spend time with you.”

She nods, biting her lip and continuing up the stairs until they reach the upper floor of personal rooms that Mary May had been kind enough to give the deputies while they worked on saving the county. Shoving the bottle of whiskey under her arm, Maddy opens her door and clicks on the light. 

The room smells a little stale--in the months she’s been in the Henbane and then the Whitetails, it seems it’s gone untouched. The bed is made, the old quilt Mary May’s grandmother had made many years ago laid on top; clothes still hang in the closet, all loners from Mary May and Grace, and a few of Rook’s softer flannels. 

Setting the whiskey on the side table, Maddy curls her fingers around one of the columns of the old, wooden four-poster bed, offering Staci a smile. He moves to the whiskey and pours them healthy portions, his fingers shaking when he offers her the glass. “To you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and deep and she hates how it sends a shiver down her spine, hates that the pain in his voice still makes her weak in the knees for him. “For...barging into the Whitetails like a fuckin’ banshee and settin’ fire to everything to save us.”

“I’d never leave y’all behind,” Maddy whispers, her lips ghosting against the rim of the glass. She takes a pull of the alcohol, wincing slightly as it goes down warm. Staci is still staring at her, his eyes sunken behind bruises and scars. Setting the whiskey down, she shakes her head at him. “Stace, you’re okay, okay? You’re going to be okay, I’m gonna make sure--”

He cuts her off, shoving his own glass to the side table, the amber liquid sloshing over the side, before grabbing her face, pulling her away from the bedpost and into him. His lips slide over hers, rough and chapped, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth, the taste of him tinged with whiskey flooding her senses. She grabs at his hair, his shoulders, standing on her tip-toes to collide into him. 

Staci groans into her mouth, pressing her back, back, back, until she bumps into the wall beside the door. Her hand flies out to push the lock in before sliding her hand carefully under the hem of his shirt. He starts, then stills, then drags his mouth from hers to press his lips against her pulse, to scrape the wild beating with his teeth. “Is this, are you--”

“Yes,” Maddy whispers, cheeks burning red at the pure desperation in her voice. “God, yes, touch me, Staci--”

His hands barely shake when they reach up to cup her face, his thumb dragging over the wound across her cheek, barely healed, then along the one at the corner of her lip. His eyes darken as his fingers trace a cut across her throat, flexing gently as she swallows hard. She moves to slide his shirt up, to trace the muscle she can just barely feel under her fingertips but he squeezes, just enough to stop her, a whine falling from her lips. 

“No,” he mutters, his voice gravelly as he ducks his head, scraping his teeth against her jaw. “Let me touch you first.” 

Biting her bottom lip, Maddy lets her head fall back against the wall, her hands hovering at her sides until she places her palms against the wood, to keep them still. The command in Staci’s voice is implicit--don’t move, don’t do anything, just let him take control. There’s a change in him now; gone is the timid, broken man she’s come to know since his rescue. Now she sees a flash of the old Staci, a flash of the man that grabbed her in the Wolf’s Den and kissed her senseless before his terror kicked back in. She’ll do anything to keep that from happening again. 

His mouth trails wet kisses down her throat, stopping to unbutton the flannel she’d stolen from Rook earlier in the day, licking at skin as it’s exposed, inhaling sharply at the wrath carved into her chest. It’s still red, tender from the infection that had set in while she traveled the Henbane--Tracey had given her some antibiotics the last time Maddy woke up at the jail, but the tissue surrounding the tattoo is still painful. Staci brushes soft fingertips across the word before ducking down and pressing his lips against it, murmuring things she can’t hear against the inflamed skin. 

He pushes the flannel off of her shoulders, tossing it behind him before unbuttoning her shorts and shoving them down the swell of her hips and ass, kicking them out of the way before bending before her to tug her shoes and socks off. His fingers trail up her legs, his feather-light touch tickling her and she shivers, shifts above him, clenching her thighs together as he brushes against the front of her panties. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, staring down at him as his eyes lock onto hers, as he presses himself closer to her center, as he hooks her knee over his shoulder and presses his mouth against her lace-covered cunt.

She trembles, her fingers winding into his hair as she whines, as she tries to increase the friction, but he stops her, his hands firm on her hips. “No,” he growls, his breath hot against her. “My way.”

Maddy nods frantically, pressing herself back against the wall in an effort to show she’s going to listen, that she’ll be good. His index finger hooks along the hem of her panties, tugging them to the side and his tongue darts out, lapping at her folds. She keens, her hand coming up to her mouth, as she tries her hardest not to rut against him. It’s been so long, months, since the last time anyone has touched her this way--Sharky was a reprieve until he realized fucking her wasn’t helping her in the slightest, and desperate to not ruin their friendship, he put an end to it. Her fingers against her clit in abandoned homes were nothing compared to the spear of Staci’s tongue, the stretch of his broader fingers as he slid them inside of her with little resistance. 

He groans from between her legs, pulling his fingers out to lick them clean before tugging her panties off and letting them follow the path of her other clothes. Staci stands, his hands spanning her hips, dancing up her ribs until they come to rest just below the lacy bralette she’d thrown on earlier. His thumbs drag over her nipples, already hard under the fabric, as he cups her small breasts, and he smirks, he fucking smirks and she’s almost overjoyed at the expression, at the normality of it on him. 

“Stace,” she whispers, her voice breaking as he pushes the bra up and over her head. He tugs her hair out of the sloppy ponytail it’s in, and cups her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She can count the broken blood vessels on his skin, can see the way the bruise has painted blue and black, purple and yellow across his nose. “I-” She’s afraid of what she’s going to say, emotion bubbling up in her that seems too much too quick. Maddy shivers, naked in his arms as he searches her face. Her hands grab at his elbows, holding him there, against her, fully clothed. “I need you, please--”

He groans and she rises her on her tiptoes to swallow it in a kiss, crushing her mouth against his. Staci grabs her around her waist, his large hands spanning the width of her body to swing her away from the wall, to press her against the quilt spread out on the bed. She wants to push his clothes off of him, to bare him to her like she is to him, but he pins her hands to the bed with one of his own wrapping around her thin wrists. 

She wonders if she’s just that much smaller, thinner, than him, or if she really hasn’t taken care of herself as well as she thought. His free hand trails down her ribs and drag over the sharp jut of her hipbone and she can hear him hum, tsk, to himself as if cataloging the “problems” he finds. She wants to grab him up, to tell him she’s okay, that she’s going to be fine now that she has him and Rook back, but he drags his tongue over the tattoo at her rib cage and her mind goes blank. 

His tongue traces the outline of the revolver on her skin; she can feel the spear of his tongue spell out the words on the scroll work, the capitalized BANG. Rook used to tease her about the silliness of ruining a perfectly good revolver tattoo, but right now as she squirms under his tongue, pinned to the bed with his hand, she’s terribly glad she opted for the dumb thing. 

Sucking a bruise into her skin just under the tattoo, Staci finally sits back, fixing her with a look when he lets go of her hands. Maddy keeps them where he leaves him, stretched up over her head, arching her back just enough to make a pretty picture for him to take in before he begins kicking off his shoes. He shucks his pants down over his narrow hips before yanking the old shirt he wears off and behind him. 

His shoulders and chest are covered in bruises, in scratches, in marks that make her ache to hold him, to trace them and press kisses against each one and for half a second she can see the scared Staci flicker back into his eyes, as he hesitates with the hem of his briefs, his cock a hard outline under the fabric. 

Ignoring the worry of disappointing him, Maddy sits up and grabs his wrist, tugging him back onto the bed with her, sliding her hands up and into his hair, tilting his head to the side to kiss him as she presses her body against his. His hands fumble at her sides for a moment before dragging her thigh up and over his hip, rutting against her. 

She moans into his mouth at the feel of his cock against her folds, relishing the hard pulse of him even through the material of his underwear. Maddy pulls back, just enough to press her lips against the bruise on his cheek, the bruise on his nose, gently before looking him in the eyes. “Staci...let me touch you now? Please?” 

He hesitates again, his fingers spasming at her thigh and his jaw twitches with how tight he clenches it. Glancing down at the marks on his skin, worry painted clearly on his face, he grimaces. Maddy gently takes his chin and kisses him again, slowly, her hips pressing into his tightly. Staci nods, jerkily, allowing her to push him back against the mattress so she can hover over him. 

Carefully, Maddy lowers herself against him, her knees tucking against his ribs as she settles in his lap, shivering as she rolls her hips against Staci’s. He bucks up, into her, his cock straining against his briefs, but she forces herself to slow down, to duck down and press her lips against the bruise at his collarbone. 

She traces it with her tongue until she reaches the healing cut it stems from, at the dip of his sternum. He shudders under her, his hands ghosting over her bare skin before settling one on her hip, the other in her hair. Kissing the wound, she travels downward, branding each mark with her mouth, until she’s reached the waistband of his underwear. Glancing up at him, she swallows hard at the look in his eyes--how they’ve dilated with need, with want, of her--her fingers toying with the elastic as she mouths at the trail of hair that disappears under the fabric. 

Dragging her mouth along the hard outline of him, through the cloth, she can’t contain the moan that falls from her lips at the feel of him. He shudders at the vibration, his hand tightening in her hair, her name a whine as he presses his hips up toward her. She gives in, dragging the waistband down, grinning to herself as his cock springs free, heavy, red and leaking from its tip as it falls heavily against his stomach. 

He kicks the underwear down his legs as she settles between them, wrapping her hand at the base of his cock and tugging upward, twisting her wrist as she reaches the tip. Her thumb spreads the slick of his precum across the head, dragging her hand back down before leaning forward to lap at the salty taste of him. His hand is tight in her hair now, a constant pull that borders on painful, but the look on his face as she meets his eyes is worth any of the discomfort. 

A sound leaves him, like he’s been gutted, when she slips his cock between her lips, when she takes him deep into her mouth, and deeper still. She holds herself there, her palms flat on his thighs, his hand flexing in her hair, curses and sighs leaving him in huffs as she swallows him down, her nose pressing against the soft hair at his stomach. Pulling back, she gasps for air, a string of spit connecting her lips to his cock in the most obscene way and she loves it. It makes her feel powerful, the way his thighs tremble, the way he can’t quite get words out. She goes forward, to take him in her mouth again but his hand tugs her hair sharply, pulling her away from his cock. 

She whines, batting his hand away from her hair so she can take him in her mouth once more, bobbing her head as she moves up and down his length. There’s something she loves about this--the weight of him on her tongue, the taste of him, the knowledge that with a few more expert twirls of her tongue and maybe the barest scrape of her teeth, she can have him coming in seconds. 

Growling, Staci tugs her away, rolling them over, lifting her leg to his shoulder and sliding inside of her in one swift movement. Maddy chokes out a sob as the air in her lungs leaves her, her hand flying to the side to grip at the sheet as he pushes her down, pressing her into the mattress, her knee nearly at her shoulder as he pounds into her. The stretch of his thick cock sends flutters through her belly; she was prepared for him, nearly dripping wet, and still the sudden intrusion burns in the best way. 

Her other hand slides into his hair, holding it out of his face as she tries to keep focus on him, to watch as he fucks her, half checking to make sure he’s okay and half-desperate to see the snarl of his lip, to watch him growl out her name as he possesses her in a way she didn’t know she needed--in a way she’s not entirely sure he’d be able to do before all of this. 

It makes her feel bad, knowing that his pain has resulted in her pleasure, but then he’s slipping out of her to roll her over onto her belly, his hands at her lower back to hold her to the mattress before pushing back inside of her from behind, and the white-hot coil inside of her tightens further, driving any coherent thought out of her mind. 

Her moans are muffled by the sheets, her fingers sore from how they scrape for purchase in the blanket. He stutters in his fast rhythm, dipping his head to mouth along her spine, to bite at her shoulder, to whine in her ear at how fucking tight she is and all of it is too much--his voice, the scrape of his teeth, the press of his cock inside of her at an angle that hits every single perfect spot--and she comes harder than she thinks she’s ever come before. 

Mouth open in a silent sob, Maddy presses back against him, her cunt rippling around his cock, urging him to follow suit, but he tugs her up so his arm is wrapped around chest, so she’s on her knees and her back against him, fucking up into her, his free hand snaking around to circle her clit, driving her over the precipice once more. This time she has to clap her hand over her mouth, bite at her fingers, to keep from screaming, to keep from drawing unwanted and unneeded attention from Rook’s nearby room. 

Staci bites down on her shoulder again, bruising her as he comes, but he’s just as quick to lave his tongue over the indentations of his teeth, to soothe the sting as he empties himself into her. Carefully, he lowers her back to the bed, letting her rest on her stomach as he falls back onto his heels. “Shit,” he mutters, running a hand over his face and Maddy forces herself to roll over, as much as she’d love to just lay there and bask in the soreness between her legs. She grabs at his hand as he tries to stutter out apologies, “Mads, I’m so--” 

Cupping his face between her hands, Maddy strokes the cut at his cheek carefully, fixing him with a glare that stops his half-formed words. “Staci Pratt, if you are trying to apologize for fucking me within an inch of my life while your dick is still half-hard--” and he makes a choked noise there, his eyes darting down to his cock, shifting until she tightens her hold on his face, “--then you better rethink your life right now. Because that’s nothin’ to apologize for. And I am about to pass the fuck out because I have nothing left in me but exhaustion, but you better fuckin’ believe that tomorrow morning I’m going to return the favor.”

She lets go of his face and points at the pillow next to hers and jerks her head toward it. “So you better lay down and cuddle me, and be here in the morning or I swear to God I’ll--”

He cuts her off, kissing her hard, all tongue and teeth and desperation and she swears it tastes like love. Her heart aches, her fingers thread through his hair, and she lets him tug her down to lay against the pillows. He pulls away first, pressing kisses against her cheeks and nose, her chin and throat, holding her body against his. 

She can feel the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows hard, as he tucks her head under his chin. She can feel the beat of his heart and the shift in his jaw as he smirks softly above her. “Within an inch of your life, huh?”

“Shut up, Staci,” Maddy breathes, grinning against his chest. “Go to sleep.”

[opspro2005]

Tyler Childers - "Out On A Drunk/Honky Tonk Flame" - Radio Bristol Sessions

This little motherfucker from Paintsville KY isn’t even 30 yrs old yet.....how the hell does a guy this young write such goddamn good songs??

“Beatin’ them strings like they’re owin’ me money...”

[hareofhrair]

In that one ask about getting into trouble u mentioned shafan kinda steering clear from purple bloods. Have they ever had an encounter or experience with one? How did it go?

HH: =oh i've had run ins with m=ore'n a few cl=owns, n=one of em pleasant.

HH: best =one was a sweep =or s=o back. i was cruisin this lil shindig a friend =of a friend was thr=owin

HH: m=ost everyb=ody there was a rusty, but tha thing ab=out thr=owin a g=o=od party is

HH: cl=owns will just sh=ow up

HH: they just manifest there =or s=omethin s=o=on as things really kick off

HH: like the way bleatbeasts just show up at metal c=oncerts

HH: anyway everyb=ody kn=ows y=ou thr=ow a big en=ough party yer runnin tha risk a cl=owns deciding ta crash it

HH: but generally speakin cl=owns aint subtle and when they sh=ow up ya kn=ow what's happenin

HH: s=o i'm at this party and havin a real g=o=od time

HH: maybe a lil drunker than I =ought ta be

HH: when i sp=ot this Big B=oy lurkin in a c=orner b=o=oth

HH: and yall kn=ow i like em big

HH: s=o i slide in and intr=oduce myself

HH: i feel it's imp=ortant ta menti=on here that the lightin in this place was n=ot s=o g=o=od

HH: and als=o my eyesight leaves a lil s=omethin ta be desired

HH: by which i mean im blind as tha pr=overbial flyin squeakbeast

HH: s=o between that and bein pretty sl=oshed i d=ont n=otice anythin suspici=ous ab=out this gentleman

HH: i start talkin ta tha fella, and he's a bit quiet, aint sayin much

HH: but that's fine i can run my m=outh en=ough fer tha b=oth a us, and i d=o

HH: lil while later, i get ta askin him if he w=ouldn't like ta walk me h=ome, if ya gather my meanin

HH: he says that s=ounds like fun, and we slip =out tha back a tha j=oint

HH: i'm hangin =off his arm, havin tr=ouble walkin straight, when I l=o=ok up an get my first g=o=od gander at tha guy under a streetlight

HH: and i see greasepaint, and a big =ole grin

HH: that'll s=ober a fella up p=owerful fast let me tell ya

HH: n=ow i mighta just g=one al=ong with tha guy and b=olted at tha first good excuse

HH: but apparently i was t=o=o drunk ta manage my facial expressi=ons, cus he sees h=ow i'm l=o=okin at him and his smile if anythin just gets wider.

HH: finally n=oticed, did ya? he says. that mean i cain't walk ya h=ome n=o m=ore? =oh well, tha =other way w=oulda been m=ore fun, but we can still have a g=o=od time.

HH: and he drags me =off int=o an alley and pulls o=ut a club, ready ta splatter me acr=oss tha pavement like a p=opped water bal=o=on

HH: but i tend ta babble when i'm scared, and all =of a sudden i say

HH: hell nah, y'all can't kill me like this, it ain't even funny!

HH: where's tha w=ordplay? tha creativity?

HH: yer just g=onna smash me with a club in an alleyway?

HH: where's tha fuckin craftsmanship? where's tha art?

HH: and that actually makes him st=op fer a minute

HH: and he just l=o=oks at me fer a bit, an then he says

HH: kn=ow what, yer right. Culls =ought ta be gl=ori=ous in tha sight a tha messiahs =or s=ome shit

HH: and i say hey ya kn=ow what w=ould be funny

HH: im a real fast runner, faster'n hell

HH: and there's a train what comes thr=ough here right at sunrise

HH: let's say y=ou challenge me t=o a race with tha train

HH: and if I beat it, y=ou let me g=o

HH: he starts sayin nah i aint just lettin y=ou run =off i aint that dumb

HH: and i say =o c=ourse, that's the funniest part

HH: bef=ore tha train c=omes, ya tie my feet t=o tha tracks!

HH: he says h=ot damn yer right that is fuckin funny

HH: gets right giggly imaginin me tryin ta run and gettin flattened like an old penny

HH: so we head =on =over t=o tha train tracks

HH: and i say wait h=old =on, we need s=ome supplies first

HH: supplies, he says?

HH: i say yeah well, we need r=ope =obvi=ously, and an umbrella

HH: he says, an umbrella?

HH: i say =o c=ourse an umbrella, i t=old ya tha train c=omes right at sunrise. ya d=ont want ta be standin there burnin in tha sun iffin tha train is late, d=o ya?

HH: and he says yer right yer right i d=ont care fer sunburns

HH: s=o he gets s=ome r=ope and a big black umbrella and we get =on tha tracks and he start's tyin my feet t=o tha tracks, but he's kinda strugglin because he's h=oldin tha umbrella at tha same time

HH: and i say hang o=n, ya can't tie it like that, it's g=onna slip right o=ff. here, let me sh=ow ya, i learned s=ome sailin kn=ots fr=om a c=obalt that never c=ome l=o=ose

HH: So i start sh=owin him h=ow ta d=o it, but he ain't gettin it, s=o i say here, i'll tie my =own feet, and y=ou watch and practice =on your =own feet.

HH: s=o he starts tyin his =own feet ta tha tracks, but he's still fumblin =on acc=ount =of h=oldin tha umbrella, s=o i say, ya need b=oth hands, here let me h=old that f=or ya

HH: and he says thanks and hands me the umbrella and g=oes back ta tyin his feet ta tha tracks.

HH: n=ow =of c=ourse ab=out that time tha sun starts ta c=ome up, and right =on time the train whistle s=ounds in tha distance

HH: and tha cl=own l=o=oks up

HH: by which p=oint i'm already ab=out half a bl=ock away, runnin like hell itself is =on my heels, with the umbrella ta b=o=ot

HH: but i was still cl=ose en=ough ta hear that m=otherfucker laughin, laughin like ta bust a gut, right up till tha n=oise a tha train dr=owned him =out

[a-black-pegasus]

Instincts

Jurassic World au! Shrunk! Owin, warning fear,

A big thanks to @sammie-skele-turtle for the idea! Well enjoy :)

________________________

Owen huffed as he walked down the cool hallways of the underground lab. It was 11:00 p.m. and Hoskins had called him down, most likely to try to persuade him to use the raptors as weapons. Owen scoffed, he would never let that happen.

Not on his watch.

The doors slid open with a metallic woosh as he stepped forward. He spotted Hoskins sitting at the table looking at a laptop.

"Well, I'm here Hoskins. What do you want?" Owen asked, cutting right to the chase.

Hoskins closed the computer and stood. "Ah, Owen, I know it's late, but I appreciate you coming. Hope you weren't asleep or anything." He streached his hand out for a hand shake.

"Well, luckily for you I wasn't. You caught me just in time." He replied shaking the hand.

Hoskins grinned, and gestured to the chair. "I'm glad to hear that. Take a seat."

Owen sat and leaned back. His gut told him something was off about Hoskins, but he couldn't place his finger on it. Hoskins took a seat across from him, pulled out a flask and took a sip before offering it to Owen. "Here, it's the good stuff."

Normally Owen didn't drink, but he felt it would help him stay awake through whatever long rant he was about to be put through. Plus Hoskins drank it so he doubted it was terrible. He grasped the flask, took a sip, and nearly gagged. Whatever was in there was definitely not "the good stuff", it was powerful, and downright disgusting, but he kept a straight face and passed it back.

Clearing his throat he coughed. "What was that?"

"The name escapes me, but it cost me an arm and a leg to get, so it must be special right?" Hoskins shrugged. Owen had to disagree. Standing Hoskins apologized. "Excuse me, I forget to turn something off. Just give me a minute."

He left the room leaving Owen alone. Whatever he was turning off must have been complicated or far, because it was several minutes before he returned. When he did come back Owen started feeling a slight buzz in the back of his skull.

Hoskins came back in holding a folder, and took his seat. "Thanks for not running out in me. So starting off, the company was beginning to brain storm about new raptors and as head of security....."

Whatever Hoskins was saying didn't quite register with Owen, as he talked the words became muffled. Owen shook his head. "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

He nodded. "Sure. As I was saying we were going to a...."

His voice was getting foggy again. Owen sat up and blinked, trying to stay awake. Hoskins noticed, and grinned.

"Are you ok?" His voice was distant, it was if it was shouted from across a wide ravine.

"Whaaat?" Owen asked sluggishly, rubbing his face. Hoskins got up, his grin growing wider.

"It's working!" He nearly cheered, coming around the table to stand in front of Owen. "It's working faster than I thought it would." Victor laughed slapping Owens shoulder.

Owens head was spinning, he tried to make sense of what Hoskins was saying. "You...what's working?" He moaned. He tried to stand up, but immediatly his knees buckled and he fell on his elbows. Bending down on one knee, Hoskins squeezed Owens face in his hand.

"You're raptors are mine." He snarled. "I'll tell you more when you're more.... manageable." He nudged Owen over with his foot, prompting him to crumple to the floor.

Owen tried to yell for help, but his throat felt thick. A minute passed, and Owen wanted to scream in pain as something hot shot across his head. It was to much, he passed out.

*****

When Owen came to, his head was pounding. He winced and rolled over, a harsh bright light was shining down on him. He squinted, but couldn't make out anything around him, then he heard Victor laugh.

"It's good to see your awake. I was beginning to think you took to much and died." There was something wrong about his voice, it was to loud, to boomy. With a flushed face he realized he was covered only by a blanket.

"If this is your idea of some sick joke well it isn't funny Hoskins. Give me my clothes back." He demanded. More lights flickered on, and the glaring light above him flicked off, and to his horror Owen realized something.

He had been shrunk down.

Either that or everything around him grew a hundred feet which was even more unlikely. Victor stood before him, a smirk on his giant face.

"How you feeling little guy?" He chuckled darkly. "You cold?"

His gigantic fist slammed next to Owen, shaking the surface he was on, and making him flinch back. The fist opened to drop a camo green shirt, and cargo pants. Owen shakily grabbed the clothes to pull the them on; When he slid the shirt over his head, he spoke.

"Make me big again right now Victor! I don't know how in the damn world you think you can get away with this, but you need to give me the antidote or whatever and change me back!" He stared up at Victor, and as silence ticked by, Owen started getting nervous.

At this size Victor could do anything he wanted to Owen and get off Scot free. Sure questions would be asked, but they would eventually give up after awhile, especially if they couldn't find any trace of him.

Victor leaned in close."You're lucky we got clothes your size." He pulled out the flask and a plastic medicine cup. "I didn't always work for Theme parks, I was in the army, deep in the army." He poured a green liquid out of the flask, from Owens angle it seemed to glow florescent green. "This serum was made to shrink down our spy's, we had this idea see— small equals unnoticed,—the research was dropped due to low survival rates. Apparently small equals weak."

A beat passed. "H-How come you didn't shrink?" Owen cursed his stutter.

"Because I ran back to my office and injected myself with the counter formula. Honestly it hurt like hell, I didn't even know if it would work." He admitted with a shrug.

Owen swallowed. "Hoskins... listen." He began slowly. "I don't know what your playing at but—"

"Oh, but I think you do." He said cutting him off. He moved his hand towards Owen, watching as Owen tried to run away. "Try to think Owen,.....what is the one thing I've been trying to get." His fingers brushed Owens back making him jolt, and with a hard flick, he knocked Owen over. "Since your brains seemed to have shrunk as well I'll help you out." He watched Owen gasp, as he struggled to his feet.

"Raptors." And he grabbed Owen in his fist and stuffed him in his pocket.

Owen yelled as he was grabbed, and shoved head first into the pocket. A feeling of dread rose up in him, he felt sick, wherever they were going it wasn't going to end well. The pocket was tight and keys poked him as Hoskins walked. Hoskins dug his fingers in the pocket and pulled out his keys, a motor rumbled and they were off.

About twenty minutes later, Owen heard the engine shut off and the keys jangle; His stomach clenched as he thought of all the different places victor could be taking him, each was more horrifying than the last. They stopped, Victors meaty hand dug around for Owen and pulled him out at the last place he expected.

The Raptor yard.

Owen was a man of few fears, but even he couldn't stop from shaking. "No... Hoskins no please!" He cried. Owen had seen what his Raptors could do to small prey, they were like cats, and he was going to be their mouse. "Victor don't! Please!" Owen beat his fist and kicked his legs but it was no use.

Hoskins walked across the metal bridge to hold him over the drop. Owen looked down and grabbed onto Victor's hand, a drop from here would kill him instantly.

Seeing the terror in Owens eyes Hoskins chuckled. "Aw, don't give me that look. I won't drop you in." He bent down and picked up the long pole they used to pull pigs out of the enclosure. "A fall from here would kill you, I want to make sure you say goodbye to your pets." He sneered.

Hoskins forced Owens arms to his side and pulled the loop tightly around his torso. Without hesitation he lowered him into the pen and blew the whistle, any minute the raptors would wake up and smell their midnight snack. Victor loosened the loop, dropping Owen to the ground, leaving him to fend for himself.

"Bye Owen, it's nothing personal, just business." Hoskins walked away with the knowledge that he would have complete and total control of the raptors in the morning.

Meanwhile Owen was running for the gate, even though it seemed miles away it was his only chance to get out before the raptors arrived. He ran for only a few minutes, when he felt the ground rumble. He toppled over as the force of eight heavy feet stomped over and over in rapid progression towards him. He turned around and gasped.

The Raptors were huge! At his level they towered above him like living Skysrapers. When they spotted him, their pupils narrowed into slits, they stalked forward clicking their teeth and calling to each other.

Owen couldn't think, he could barely move. He tried to take a few wobbly steps back, but their yellow eyes seemed to root him to the ground. Delta was the first to make a teasing snap at him, making their new prey forcibly jump and fall back.

Blue called out, and they surrounded him in an instant, their thick claws tapping the ground as they swarmed around him. Owen could barely keep an eye on all of them. They dived in and out snapping their jaws and threatening to pierce him with their claws. Blue stepped forward.

"B-Blue N-no stop!" Owen stuttered out, holding a trembling hand up. Blue cocked her head to the side and peered curiously at him. Snapping her neck back upright, she gave a shriek and lundged forward, mouth opened. Owin saw the glint of teeth, screamed and covered his head.

*

He felt his feet leave the ground, his throat tightened as he was raised up. Blue picked him up in her mouth! Owen dangled from the back of his shirt petrified, swaying back and forth as Blue strutted around with her new catch.

She walked away to a grassy corner and stamped the ground down. Satisfied Blue lowered Owen down in the corner and crouched in front of him. He scrambled to get away, but the raptors quick teeth stopped his progress. Slowly, he was lifted over and dropped before blues feet, using her nose she pushed him flat on his stomach and snorted a hot breath at him.

"Oh god! Just eat me already!" Owen quivered on the verge of crying. This was torture, his nerves were frayed. A prickling sensation ran up and down his spine as his fight and flight mode went into a frenzied panic, but he couldn't move, not with the raptors nose pressed into his back.

He layed there shaking for a few minutes waiting to be eaten, but nothing happened. After awhile blue moved her nose away, and layed down next to him. Trembling he got to his knees.

Blue eyed him almost excitedly as he looked up at her. Owen stood to wobbly feet, watching her for any signs of movement, but blue just sat there. Owen realizing Blue wasn't going to eat him began to make his escape.

"..... ok." He took a shuddery breath. "I'm going to go now." He spoke lowly walking backwards.

".....st-stay.....sstaAY!" He ordered as blue twitched forward. "...no blue, stop!" Blue picked him up again and deposited him in the circle of trampled grass. Nudging him over she stood, made a few turns and layed down curling her tail in slightly.

Owen layed unmoving. He couldn't fight off a ten story raptor, he looked up to blue. She hadn't eaten him yet, in fact— he looked around him— the other raptors were keeping their distance. He took a breath, maybe Blue wasn't going to eat him, but he needed to get help.

"Blue I'm going to go now, I have to find someone who can help me." Owen explained climbing over the tail. Blue snatched him up once more, and returned him to his previous spot.

He huffed. "F-fine let's do it your way I guess." There was always the morning. He sat down, leaning his head against blue uneasily. Crooning in reassurance, she shifted, and layed her head down.

Owen patted her side feeling a bit less nervous but still on edge.

"Thanks for not eating me Blue." He said in an afterthought. Blue chirped and closed her eyes.

______________________________________________

Thanks for reading. As always feel free to send me a writing prompt and I promise I'll do my best!

(^ ^)/ *waves*

[justheretobreakthings]

The Heat Was Hot and the Ground Was Dry - Chapter 6 (Desperado)

Written for @desertkeithweek - Day 6 (First Chapter)(Previous Chapter) Read on AO3

The lazy days were easier with the radio fixed. He was settling comfortably back into the brief periods of leisure in between his rides out farther into the desert, and he was getting deep into his rut again. Rest, feel a pull from that constant energy that kept drawing him out to the far reaches of the desert, explore, chart, photograph, stay until he was exhausted or his canteen was nearly empty, return to the shack to take half a day to rest before setting off again.

Rinse and repeat. At least his time was filled, even if not with much that could truly be considered productivity.

On a particular afternoon he was lounged upside down on his couch, legs draped over the headrest and his head on the floor, his hair spilling onto the ground around him. He had his knife in his hand, and was fidgeting with it, spinning it and letting it dangle from his fingertips and then flick the hilt back into his palm, just keeping his hands busy while he listened to the radio. There was some sort of contest going on today, where the deejay would play only two notes to a song and listeners would try to identify it. Keith was pretty good at it.

Two beats played from the radio now, the words “ – let me – ” audible over the instrument backing before the sound was cut off.

“Should I Stay Or Should I Go,” Keith said out loud to no one. “The Clash.”

He waited out the weather report, still idly twirling his knife and staring at the upside-down map on the wall opposite him, until the deejays returned and Bennie Jay spoke. “That was The Clash’s ‘Should I Stay Or Should I Go’” – yep, he’d gotten it right – “And congratulations to Lavonda Harrison for being the first caller to correctly guess it. Remember, listeners, you still have plenty of chances in the next two days to win a pass to next month’s Louder Than Life Rock Festival, so keep your ears open for another Two Note Challenge down the line. See how fast you can recognize your favorite classic hits. For now, here’s a full song for you, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers with ‘Learning to Fly’.”

Keith didn’t so much as move as the song played, just listened as he rested with his head against the floor. He’d correctly guessed every challenge song they had played so far, since he listened to the station often enough that pretty much every note was irrevocably ingrained into his memory, but it was a solitary game for him. Even if he’d had a phone to call in from, the prizes were for a music festival all the way down in Yuma. He would have to be completely out of his mind to even consider making a trip like that by hoverbike.

“And for those of you making a drive through the city today, watch for traffic in the far northeast quarter by the Galaxy Garrison. The place is crowded as hell today anywhere within ten blocks of the Kerberos launch site, so find a detour if…”

Keith froze in place, dropping his knife to the floor with a clatter, not even noticing that it was no longer in his hand.

Kerberos. It had been ages since he’d heard anything about Kerberos. He’d almost managed to get the word out of his mind completely. Almost. It was always in the back of his mind somewhere ready to pounce if he let his thoughts drift for too long.

Slowly he righted himself on the couch, staring at the radio with wide eyes as the deejays chattered. “Ceremony will be starting in about an hour, and I’m guessing will finish up, maybe about an hour later? Eddie?”

“Yeah, like I would know how long commemoration ceremonies are supposed to take.”

“Ah, well, whichever the case, traffic should start clearing up later this afternoon. While we’re on the topic of Kerberos: Eddie, it’s been one year to the day since the launch for the Kerberos mission, yeah?”

“Good on you for noticin’ the passage of time.”

“And the Garrison’s officially closed the case for months.”

“Yeah?”

“And there’s been no word whatsoever about aliens or their abduction-related activities.”

“Your point?”

“You owe me ten dollars.”

Eddie snorted. “First of all, if there are aliens out there, they’re sneaky. Garrison won’t be able to find ‘em in less than a year. Second of all, even if we’re countin’ the case bein’ closed as an official declaration of alien non-existence, the deal was you give me ten bucks if I was right. I said nothin’ about me owin’ you if I was wrong.”

“What? Hey now, I’m pretty sure it was implied in the bet.”

“Dude, this is precisely why you flunked out of law school.”

Bennie laughed and gave some sort of reply, but Keith could no longer hear them, not over the sound of his own pulse, his own heartbeat. He had long since stopped attempting to keep track of the date in the desert, so he’d had no idea how much time had passed. One year. It had been one year since the launch of the Kerberos mission.

One year since he’d last saw Shiro.

And he’d spent the majority of that year wandering the desert in search of the meaning of cave pictures.

He stood from the couch to walk outside to his hoverbike, feeling all the while like he was in a daze, like his movements weren’t entirely his own. There was some sort of commemoration ceremony out at the launch site today, and he had time to make it.

He sped through the desert, barely taking in his surroundings as he drove, thoughts occupied only by Kerberos. The constant preparation for the mission that Shiro had been undergoing for practically as long as Keith had known him. The announcements in the school newsletter, and the coverage from outside media. The instructors who’d had him and his classmates tour the shuttle facility or test out some of the simulations of the Kerberos landscape that the Garrison had prepared for the crew to train with.

They day of the launch, the way Shiro had patted him on the back and smiled and told him to promise not to get into too much trouble until he was back on Earth to join in the fun and then had walked away. The shuttle roaring to life and taking to the sky surrounded by Garrison personnel and camera crews. The silent and half-empty dormitory he’d come back to afterward.

When he was close enough to the launch site to see the crowd gathered there, he slammed onto the brakes, sending a cloud of dust up behind him as he skidded to a halt. He knew he should go down and join the crowd, join the people, get close enough to be part of whatever a commemoration ceremomy entailed.

But he found he didn’t want to let go of his hoverbike. So he stayed at a distance, watching.

It was hard to see what exactly was happening on the makeshift stage next to the launchpad at this distance, and the people on it were at an angle with most of their backs to him. But he could recognize the uniforms of high-ranking Garrison officers easily.

He must have arrived just a little after the ceremony had started, since a straight-backed woman in full ceremonial military wear was at a microphone at the front of the stage right now. There were loudspeakers rigged up around the stage, so Keith could hear the words. She was giving the crowd a brief history of the Kerberos mission, how the plans for it had come about, the goals for the mission, the process of selecting a crew for the voyage, all that had been done to plan and train and prepare and ensure that the mission was a success.

She then lamented how even the best laid plans cannot account for every possibility, every problem that could be encountered, and that the tragic failure of Kerberos had been proof of it.

The woman left the microphone so another officer could take her place, this one launching into anecdotes about working side-by-side with the brilliant Sam Holt, what an intelligent innovator he had been, how he was beloved by his colleagues in his field, what a devastating loss he had been. The next couple of people to come to the microphone said more of the same; this must have been some sort of testimonial portion of the event. A handful of officers talked about the crew’s programmer next, and then began the short speeches about Shiro.

It was hard to listen. His stomach felt like it was full of concrete as people spoke, the Garrison’s flight instructor who had helped Shiro on the path to becoming the best pilot the Garrison had ever seen, the commanding officers who described watching him grow as a student and how he’d been a young man with absolutely unlimited potential, two officers who had been his engineer and communications officer as cadets and who talked about how Shiro had influenced where they were on their career path today.

After every speech, the crowd would clap politely, keeping the applause subdued to select the solemnity of the occasion. And after every speech, Keith’s grip on the handlebars would tighten, the fabric of his gloves pressing into his palm and his knuckles growing increasingly white.

The officers were seated in a line across the back of the stage, and the seating was the order in which they went to the front of the stage to give their speeches. Keith didn’t know how long it took for the officer on the far end to stand and take his place at the microphone. It had to have been hours and hours, or maybe just a few minutes. Even as he listened, they were being muddled in his head so that the details escaped him.

He didn’t know who the last officer to speak was, but he was so highly decorated that Keith could see the sun reflecting off his medals even from here, so he had to have been someone of importance. The officer didn’t introduce himself as he stepped up to the microphone. Instead, he launched right into his speech, his voice booming and clear and demanding the full attention of every figure in the crowd.

“One year ago today, three brave and unforgettable men left this planet to make the longest journey that any human beings have ever made before. They set off in pursuit of understanding, in pursuit of the truth about what lay in the far reaches of our solar system.

“And they were meant to return to us, to share with the world what they had seen, what they had discovered, what they had learned. It is with a heavy heart that we acknowledge now that what we had thought they were meant to do was not what fate planned.”

The man paused, letting silence reign for a few seconds, maybe to collect his thoughts or composure, maybe for dramatic effect. Then he continued. “Since the beginning of humankind, we have not been content to stay put. We were built to explore, to learn. It is a fundamental part of who we are as a species: the desire constantly search for something bigger. To constantly expand our knowledge of the workings of workings of the universe.

“We have done this by venturing into the unknown. We have traveled to unexplored corners of the globe, and later, but so recently on a cosmic scale, to those beyond it. We have progressed in all areas of industry and technology by building and creating, bringing to life innovations that we often thought impossible. We have learned about the worlds of medicine and biology and chemistry by observing phenomena we didn’t yet understand, and we experimented and furthered our studies to expand our knowledge of these fields and how we could use them for the betterment of ourselves and others. We looked into the unknown, and we took it upon ourselves to know it.

“In the unknown, however, there is always a risk. And we cannot ever hope to continue in humanity’s journey if we do not take these risks.

“Samuel Holt, Matthew Holt, and Takashi Shirogane knew of the risks. There is so much we’ve still yet to learn about what lies at the edges of our solar system and what lies beyond, and we cannot know what dangers may be out there along the way. We cannot know until we search, until we find out for ourselves.

“The failure of the Kerberos mission was a tragedy. Three great minds were lost on the journey, and three great hearts along with them. But it was not a tragedy that came about in vain. The crew of this mission created a benchmark for humanity, seeing farther into the unknown than anyone before them. They left to seek knowledge and understanding of the universe, and the fact that fate did not allow them the chance to bring it back does not mean that they couldn’t have found it before fate’s intervention.

“I like to believe they did. These three men left to the edge of our solar system ready to expand the horizons of Earth’s quest to bring to light and make sense of all that we previously could only wonder about. There is much yet to be discovered, infinite possibilities, ways we can take what we find in the far reaches of the galaxy and apply them to making massive strides in science, strides that would forever impact life for all on Earth.

“The crew of the Garrison’s Kerberos mission has been and will continue to be dearly missed. We expect to see the names Samuel Holt, Matthew Holt, and Takashi forever in our memory, and in our history for a long time to come. And though we honor them in ceremony today, through speeches and plaques and commiseration, we must also honor them by continuing what they have started.

“We will continue to explore. We will continue to learn. And we will continue to not let fear or doubt stop us from continuing to reach out to these new horizons. We will accept the possibility of failure and of loss, and we will strive bravely forward in our unending search for truth and understanding.

“And as we do, we will do it in remembrance, in honor, of the Kerberos crew, and of their monumental steps in their journey to the unknown.”

There was applause as the speaker returned to his seat, but Keith could barely hear it. It was a soft and insubstantial buzz in his ear, in his head. The crowd was blurring together in his vision, becoming a single shapeless mass.

It was too much. This whole thing was too much, and not just in terms of how bloated and overwrought that speech had been. In terms of everything.

He didn’t remember starting up his hoverbike. He didn’t remember turning away from the launch site and heading back into the desert.

He must have done it, though, because there he was flying across the vast and deserted landscape of rocks and dirts, on his way back to his shack.

When he pulled up next to the shack, he nearly collapsed right off of his hoverbike. He was unsteady as he walked, and he didn’t go into the shack, instead opting to sit on the porch steps leading to the door, not quite listening to the chorus of “Bad Moon Rising” floating outside through the open window.

He breathed deeply, if quickly. He shouldn’t have gone to the launch site. He did not need to hear these people in Shiro’s life talk about him, because they were all things he already knew. He didn’t need to be reminded of what had happened that day, and what purpose it was supposed to serve.

And he sure as hell did not need some guy who didn’t even know Shiro wax poetic about him, claim to know what he had thought and what he wanted, trying to make Shiro a symbol of some vague quest for understanding that the Garrison was probably only going to use in order to get a positive response whenever they decided to announce their next manned mission to the edge of the solar system because of course they were going to. If at first you don’t succeed…

His arm was shaking as he brought it up to wipe his nose as he sniffed, and shook harder and he lifted the other one as well to grind the heels of his hands into his stinging eyes.

Part of him wanted to go inside, get some rest. But he didn’t want to be in the shack right now. It was too small, too dark. He didn’t want to go in there and feel like the walls were closing in on him, the walls that were covered floor to ceiling in all the nothing he had accomplished since he started living there.

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it. He had been out in the desert for nearly a year and he had dedicated his life to doodles and gut feelings. Shiro had always been on him about how much potential he had, about how he was on the path to accomplish great things and how he shouldn’t doubt himself and how he needed to chase his goals.

Shiro had thought that Keith was going to turn out great. Great like him.

That sure as hell hadn’t gone according to plan.

Internally he cursed himself for how he had spent these months after getting booted from the Garrison. He’d wasted them. For all that stupid speaker had been all pomp and prose, he did have a point about how much Shiro had loved learning and discovering and testing new waters.

Keith had thought he was doing that at first, when he’d followed those tracks and found those etchings and let that bizarre energy lead him around the desert like a dog on leash. Now, though… now it was looking more and more like a dead end.

Maybe he should quit, he thought. Give up on this goddamned desert. Shiro had always drilled into his mind platitudes about never giving up, but there had to be exceptions.

Then again, this all he had. If he gave up now, there would be nothing left.

He was stuck out here. And he was stuck out here on his own.

When he’d been kicked out of the Garrison, he had felt lost. Now the feeling was starting to crawl its way back.

A piano theme played from the radio through the open window as Keith brought his knees up to his chest, crossed his arms over them, and finally buried his head in them. He could hear tiny creaking sounds from the porch as it shook along with him, and The Eagles accompanied him as he curled further into himself:

“Desperado, oh, you ain't gettin' no younger Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people talkin' Your prison is walking through this world all alone”

[georgiapeach30513]

The next group chat could be about an upcoming event. Like a graduation or a wedding they all have to attend.

Or someone has some family gossip. Is Story pregnant again? Maybe one of the next gen girls has someone going around school spreading a rumor and the rest just want to check up on her.

Or a sporting event. The Championship is coming up and they all are getting decked out in the right gear to cheer their loved one on.

Just some thoughts!

-🧚🏼

Okay, such great ideas!! Since we're in the territory of Bella/Lily lets go through the men's chat...So this is going to include James, Carter, Blade, Beck, Chris, and Jax...or does it 😏

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chris:  James!  My man!

Blade:  here we go....

Beck:  I think it's amazing!  I keep trying to talk Az into more, but she's done...

Carter:  You got Az to have a lot more kids than anyone ever thought she would have 😂

James:  Yeah, what can I say, Iris is in love with every part of me. And me her, just to clarify that

Blade:  Chris...don't

Chris:  So how did you do it?

Jax:  I'm uncomfortable.  I'll be okay if you guys ever want to remove me from this.  Instead I keep getting added back.

Blade:  I've tried for years!  It's no use.  They live to torture me

James:  I can't remember if it was on the boat or at the house.

Carter:  my boat??  James!

James:  You lent me the boat for our anniversary.  What the hell did you think was going to happen?  I don't complain about knowing you've probably made babies in there.

Blade:  make it stop

Beck:  how come I've never got to use the boat??  I want to use the boat! Can Azzie and I use the boat in a couple of weeks?

Carter:  You've never asked to use the boat

Beck:  I'M ASKING! Can we use the boat?

Carter:  Don't go in the main suite 😂😏

James:  At least a Rogers and Baizen has been made there

Blade:  🤢🤮

Carter:  I never said a Baizen has been made there

Chris:  Quill was

Carter:  ...... What??  When did you use the boat?

Chris:  Lucy has this thing, don't ask for permission I WANTED ANOTHER BABY!  

Beck:  Why have I not been on this boat??

Beau:  I haven't either

James:  Where the fuck did you come from?

Jax:  Ooh!  I want to go on this boat

Carter:  if Posie drives

Jax:  hey!

James:  DO NOT LET HIM GET ON THAT BOAT!

Beck:  I asked first!

Chris:  Just don't ask......

Jax:  Wait a minute! Why can't I drive the boat?

Carter:  ....... I've seen you drive a Harley.  Posie was kinda raised on a boat

James:  She was.  Beau too

Beau:  I don't want to be on this boat

Chris:  How many of you guys have been with each other's partners? 🍿🍿😏

Blade:  I don't want to talk about it

Carter:  Really??

Beck:  Why would you bring this up

Joshua:  That's a very odd question

James:  Who brought you?

Joshua:  I've always been here.  I just choose not to answer most of the time.  I turn off notifications, because you guys get going good.

Carter:  You know a bit too much of our personal lives

Joshua:  Because you Drysdale clan is stubborn!  Do you think I want to know about the sex issues in yours, James, Jax, Blade's, Beau's Beck's life.

Beck:  ........ About the boat.  I gotta change the subject

Chris:  Okay...Carter, how were things when you went home?  I see that a few of the kids stayed with your in laws 😂😂😂

James:  I KNEW IT!! You two are so predicatable. Story and you have this RAGING breeding kink, can't stand to have someone else pregnant in the family

Carter:  I don't know what you're talking about

Beck:  DENIAL SIR! It's true

Jax:  What?   Wait...

Owin:  That's why Story is usually pregnant with someone.  Have you seriously never looked at them when someone announces a pregnancy??  James has it, too.

Beau:  ...... Why are you watching them.

Chris:  You're not innocent Beau! Or do you and Blade just plan out pregnancies to when you're not.....

Blade:  SHUT UP!

Owin:  What??!!!  Give me the juice!

Blade:  NO!

Beau:  DON'T

Owin:  Joshie, I frew up on myself

Joshua:  It's normal.  Live a little

Harry:  Yeah, some of us just get lucky, and take one at a time.  Sup Drysdale's

Jax:  Can I go home now?  I don't like it here

Carter:  You're worse than Bucky.  You can leave at any moment

Jax:  And then Chris adds me back!

James:  It is weird that he sleeps in a room with my daughter

Chris:  She's married and pregnant again, James...

James:  You sir, are inappropriate

Joshua:  How come you never went into sex therapy

Chris:  I do what I do free of charge Joshie.   So just how many people have you been with?

Blade:  I hate this

Beau:  Mr. NDA on tap 😂😂

Chris:  Mr. three people.  It's kinda sweet

Carter:  three??

James:  why the hell did you ask that?

Carter:  I take it back.   🙉🙉🙉 LALALALALALALALA Umm....my wife is calling me from the tower, bye

*Carter leaves chat*

James:  he's so predictable!

Ransom:  CARTER!!

Owin:  Wait a minute....

Ari:  BEAU!

*Beau leaves chat*

*Blade leaves chat*

Curtis:  Put them back

Bucky:  SHUT UP Also, congratulations James

Frank:  What is this shit??  My phone won't shut up

Owin:  Umm...this is the wrong chat

Steve:  this isn't how I thought I would find out about your pregnancy

Joshua:  James, really??

James:  He is lying!  Tell him he's lying

Ransom:  On Carter's boat???

James:  you like me more than Carter That's why I'm Tweedle Dee

Ransom:  you came first in our lives.  Still haven't got rid of you

Steve:  don't act all tough, sweet boy, you love him

Owin:  what's happening

Chris:  I KNEW IT!

Ransom:  STEVEN!! We don't give Chris ANYTHING

Beck:  I'm scared

Chris:  this is HILARIOUS What else you got Steven??

Ransom:  not a fucking thing Christopher

Chris:  Does he have any tattoos?

Bucky:  YES HE DOES

Owin:  Mr. D!! That's why Mrs. D can't keep her eyes off of me! Wait!  Dad, did the tattoo thing start with you?

Curtis:  I really don't know what you're talking about.

Ari:  He's got a few

Owin:  Mr. D!  Get those nipples pierced. I know a guy

Steve:  why would he do that twice?

Beck:  😲😲😲

Owin:  What else does he have pierced?

Ransom:  nothing Ransom has nothing pierced

James:  HUGH RANSOM DRYSDALE!

Steve:  😂😂😂

Ransom:  I hate you

Steve:  but you love that Kitty Cat

Ari:  oh my god I can't breathe

James:  something tells me I know two men who would do anything for their little princess

Ari:  damn straight I would!

Bucky:  SHUT UP!

Curtis:  you have a metal arm

Bucky:  ..... And?

Ari:  I know what I'd be doing if I had a metal arm

Owin:  🤮🤮

Chris:  😂😂 What's that??

Owin:  SHUT UP

Ari:  Oh son...

Ransom:  eh!  There's only one person that my wife has admitted to finding attractive, and that's Bucky

Jake:  REALLY???  And I'm just here??

Chris:  I KNEW IT!

Ransom:  everybody fucking knows it!  You were too young for her

Jake:  I'm a year younger than her.  Shut up.  She lived with me first 😊😊 Iris called me daddy first

James:  Who put the old guys in here??

Ransom:  OLD??

Bucky:  YOU STARTED TEXTING NOT ME!

Steve:  Son, I'm still not too old to take you out of this world

Ari:  I'm the oldest, and I'm okay with this

Curtis:  Maybe you lot should pay attention to the group you're chatting on.  We didn't want you punks in our group anyways!

Frank:  wait...Iris called you daddy??

James:  she calls me daddy now

Beck: 😲😲

Chris:  🍿🍿

Owin:  😂😂

*James leaves chat*

Ransom:  PUT HIM BACK

Chris:  put that thing back where it came from oh so help me!

Steve:  He learned that shit from you

Bucky:  Language STEVEN!

Ari:  Kid's got balls

Curtis:  Yeah, I'm out...

Frank:  I knew I didn't like that kid for some reason

Chris:  she doesn't call him daddy She calls him Sarge

Owin:  oop 🙈💀 She says that out in the open too

Ransom:  Steven, I'm going to kill your kid

Steve:  just make sure he's alive again for supper tomorrow

Chris:  well this has been fun Thank you for joining me on my couch

Joshua:  you love chaos don't you?

Chris:  I married Luciana Violet Drysdale, I thought that was obvious

Owin:  WHAT DO YOU HAVE PIERCED, MR. D? AND WHERE IS THIS TATTOO? I NEED TO KNOW!

*Ransom leaves chat*

Owin:  rude

*Bucky leaves chat*

*Steve leaves chat*

*Sam leaves chat*

Beck:  Sam was here??

Owin:  Bucky learned a new trick

Joshua:  I had to teach him.  He was embarrassing

Frank:  I don't want to do this ever again

Owin:  Frankie! I love when you're here You offer very little to the conversation Did you see what your son is doing with Blade?? For shame

*Frank leaves chat*

Owin:  So only people who have seen Aster naked are left?

Beck:  ..... That's my wife!

Owin:  My bestie.  I didn't even touch her when she was naked. Well, I threw her ass in the shower Does that count?

Chris:  I've not officially seen her naked.  You two just have a thing with window Cars You know.  You want to get caught... That's the point of exhibition How many security tapes have you bought, Mr. America's Sweetheart?

Beck:  I'm not telling you that!

Owin:  You and Az have porn 😂😂

Joshua:  I would tell James congratulations, but I'll do that in a single thread.  Peace out guys

Owin:  Don't leave me!

*Joshua leaves chat*

Owin:  Uh!  Everyone is rude

Beck:  I've got to go, too.  Ellie and Otto are watching the kids

Owin:  Bye 😢

Chris:  It's just us

Owin:  You scare me

Chris:  I intimidate you

Owin:  scare...it's different

Chris:  Go enjoy your older woman, who knows how to take care of her big man

Owin:  Don't do that!  You've got a size and age kink too 😲 Wait...

Chris:  we're like the reverse twins I'm glad you came into the light

Owin:  you're good...and scary

Chris:  I know.  You either love or hate me. But my little wife is needing attention Farewell my fellow giant

[scxretxsettle]

He didn’t bother rising from his seat, even as the engine rumble of a larger vehicle (a van or a truck, from the sounds of it) drew nearer to his cabin before dying down. Instead, he reached down--didn’t even think about the motion--to retrieve the handgun strapped to the underside of the desk and rest it within reach on the table top.

It wasn’t until the hesitant knock on the door (three quiet raps in quick succession) that he hauled himself out of the old chair, grimacing in response to the aches and pains that announced their presence at the movement. The gun was tucked into the back of his pants, and then he moved to answer the door -- and wasn’t horribly surprised to find Bad Omens on the other side.

(The uncertainty in his expression was new.)

He barely managed to bite back his initial response--a gruff “what do you want” that came to mind with little prompting--instead taking a moment to size up the young man, try to see him however it was that Vico saw him. (Maybe he was a little too quick to hostility. The boy hadn’t done anything wrong, had never presented himself as a threat.) “Yeah?” he finally prompted instead.

(The bruise smudged across the young man’s cheek had darkened further, and it looked like his eye was swelling some.)

“I brought ya a new ray gun,” Omens offered, slowly shifting the pack from over his shoulder to tug the gun free. He held it out to Midnight, butt first, lowered his gaze slightly when Midnight looked from the gun to his face. “Ya weren’t -- big on color, but I figured a li’l touchin’ up here ‘n’ there so it wasn’t plain white wouldn’t bother ya too much...”

He was careful not to be too quick or forceful when he took the gun from Omens, kept he barrel pointed away from them both as he turned it over in his hands to inspect both the gun and the paint. “You painted this?”

Omens nodded, hands moving to clasp the pack strap slung over his shoulder.

(Had the young man always been so nervous around him? Or had he done a little too good a job, lashing out to keep the kid at a distance while he figured things out?)

Say something nice to him, Vico had asked. This was as good a thing as any, all things considered (it wasn’t like he had much else to go off of). “It looks good.” The matte black base had been a nice touch, and the two fine, cool purple M’s on either side of the grip worked well--not too much, and not too little. (It may not have felt like his gun, but he could see the care put into getting the paint just right, could tell Omens had put a lot of effort into making it perfect.)

Omens perked up some at the praise, and he held eye contact more easily when he spoke again. “Hazard’s workin’ out th’ last details’a gettin’ yer bike back... We weren’t sure he was gonna manage it, which’s why I didn’t bring it up last time, but, uh, he should have it in th’ next couple’a days. ‘n’ me ‘n’ Detonator’ll bring it up t’ya.”

Midnight frowned slightly. (Another name to try to piece information together for from the ledgers he’d uncovered.) “What’s that going to cost me?” No one did anything for free, and if the man had to get it from someone else, it probably meant he was going to have to pay to do so.

“Th’ bike?” When Midnight nodded, Omens waved his hands his hands in dismissal. “‘s not gonna cost ya anythin’.”

His frown deepened. “I find that hard to believe.” Even if this Hazard guy stole the motorcycle back, Midnight highly doubted he’d just hand it over for free.

“‘s true,” Omens insisted. “‘m gonna take care of it.”

He could read between the lines. “So what’s it going to cost you?” He was not about to let this kid get himself into any kind of trouble over him. (They were strangers, and he still had values. Namely, not letting kids sacrifice something of their own when he was more than capable of handling it himself.)

“‘s just a favor. Nothin’ major.”

Something about that didn’t sit right with Midnight. “He say what kind of favor?”

Omens bristled suddenly--in response to something he’d heard in the question or Midnight’s tone, probably, but what exactly was impossible to tell. “What’s it matter? ‘s one favor.”

“Omens-”

“‘m a big boy, I c’n manage owin’ somebody a favor,” Omens continued, more defensive than Midnight would have suspected he’d be, even if he'd managed to blunder over a sore spot.

“Alright, alright,” Midnight said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. I didn’t mean to imply you can’t.” Or whatever it was that had set the young man off. But he didn’t want to go down that road and risk further aggravating the kid. “Did you want-”

“I should go,” Omens stated, loudly enough that he didn’t hear the beginning of Midnight’s question. (And it didn’t look like he was interested in sticking around to hear it all the way through, if he’d seen the beginnings of it.)

Midnight nodded, unsure of how to respond. (Was he supposed to ask the young man to stay? Or should he let him go?)

“I’ll see ya when Detonator ‘n’ I bring yer bike around.” Omens fingers twitched around the pack strap, almost like he wanted to reach out to touch Midnight. (Was he a physical contact-heavy person?)

“Avoid taking the Five back,” Midnight said without thinking as Omens turned in the direction of his truck.

What?

“Huh?”

Where had that even come from? (Who even said Omens ever took the Five?) “There was a report. Patrol movements in that area.“ Why was he saying any of this? (It felt like there was a sudden disconnect between his brain and his mouth.) He was an Exterminator, dammit, (was he still?) helping people avoid patrols was probably the last thing he should be doing.

And when had he been paying attention to traffic reports?

“Oh.” There was a puzzled look on Omens’ face, like he was solving a Rubik’s cube without all of the colored squares. “O-kay,” he drawled, quizzical frown deepening. He continued on to his truck before Midnight had the chance to say something stupid again, and Midnight watched him pull away from the cabin and down the dirt almost-path that led back to the main road.

(What the hell had that been?)

[hareofhrair]

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🖤❣️💔💗 :>

PFpfpfpf I think that's cheating but okay! This is going to be long as hell, so buckle in!

❤️ How much does romantic love mean to you?

"H=onestly, n=ot all that much. I think it's plenty imp=ortant in general. R=omance is beautiful, and inspires beautiful things. I l=ove r=omantic gestures, and tha thrill =of r=omance as a c=oncept? But actual c=ommitted r=omantic l=ove aint all that significant ta me pers=onally. N=ot sure I can even d=o r=omantic l=ove if I'm perfectly h=onest. Aint happened s=o far. Even if I c=ould, aint really c=ompatible with my way =of life, and I can't imagine ever feelin s=o str=ongly ab=out s=omeb=ody I'd give up travelin."

🧡 How much does familial love mean to you?

💛 How much does platonic love mean to you?

"g=onna just c=ombine these tw=o, since tr=olls d=ont really d=o genetic family. I think plat=onic l=ove and ch=osen families are incredibly imp=ortant. Tha m=ost imp=ortant! N=othin m=ore beautiful than tha b=onds we f=orm with pe=ople because we decided ta care ab=out em, n=ot cause we're gettin anythin =out =of it, but just because ya need each =other. Tha l=ove =of true friends, tha l=ove =of a c=ommunity fer =one an=other, that shit gets me straight up misty in the eyes. L=ove seein f=olks c=ome t=ogether. Tha pr=oblem with r=omantic l=ove, =or at least tha way m=ost f=olks d=o it, is it cl=oses ya =off fr=om =other f=olks when it sh=ould be d=oin tha =opp=osite. But if y=ou make a friend, and they g=ot =other friends already? that just means y=ou g=ot a bundle a friends fer tha price a =one! I g=ot mad heaps a plat=onic l=ove fer tha friends i have all =over, and fer any=one what c=omes ta me reachin =out, needin a hand."

💚 Are you in love right now? With whom? (Be as specific or vague as you would like)

"Sure am. I'm in l=ove with tha w=orld. With tha c=ol=or a sunrise and tha silver wind =over tha grass and tha smell a tha forest and tha feelin a rich s=oil between my t=oes. I'm in l=ove with all tha pe=ople i meet, and all their little w=onders and idi=osyncrasies, and all tha ways they l=ove each =other. I'm in l=ove with their s=ongs and their st=ories, and h=ow they'll make art =outta any damn thing they can lay hands =on, h=ow they can't st=op makin art. I'm in love with tha way that rusty farmer calls the names =of his cluckbeasts and they c=ome runnin s=o he can tuck em in safe every night, because he l=oves them. I'm in love with tha little flowers that =olive carved inta tha handle a tha knife she uses ta gut fish, s=o even her killin is d=one with s=omethin beautiful, is d=one with l=ove in it. I'm in l=ove with tha =old mustard what let me sleep in their barn =one day when it st=ormed =out =of seas=on, and h=ow they didn't say a w=ord ta me except ta tell me n=ot ta steal anythin, but they br=ought me blankets against tha c=old, and they left a wind=ow =open s=o i c=ould hear tha music fr=om their radi=o all thr=ough tha l=ong day, even th=ough they must have had a puddle =on tha fl=oor fr=om all tha rain c=omin thr=ough. Because they l=oved me. They didn't kn=ow me fr=om adam, but they l=oved me all tha same. The way all =of us l=ove each =other, when we let =ourselves feel it. Can't d=o it all tha time. Hurts ta feel that much l=ove, specially kn=owin h=ow many are sufferin and h=ow y=ou can't d=o jack shit ta help. But ya g=otta remember it's there. L=ose that l=ove, ya l=ose everythin ab=out ya that's w=orth l=ovin."

💙 What kind of partner are you?

"Ha! Tha l=ove em and leave em kind."

💜 How do you show affection?

"I like ta take care a f=olks. Bring em what they need. If I d=on't like ya, ya just w=ont see me. If I do like ya, I'll find a reas=on ta be in tha neighb=orh=ood a little m=ore =often, and I'll never sh=ow up empty handed. I like ta bring practical gifts, but if there aint n=othin like that ya need, then it'll be little gifts and suchlike. Little things I f=ound a l=ong tha way and th=ought were beautiful and wanted ta share with ya. Everyb=ody needs beauty, always.

🖤 What is your sexuality/orientation?

"I d=on't c=ott=on much ta the idea a gender, and that makes =orientati=on a bit hard ta pin d=own. I like fellas, generally speakin, and f=olks what l=ook like fellas. Masc, I think is tha term, or butch as the case may be? Maybe? I d=on't rightly kn=ow tha terms. I =only kn=ow I like em big and beefy and hairy and r=ough ar=ound tha edges."

❣️ How do you flirt?

"=Often, and with=out a great deal a subtlety. I aint afraid ta ask fer what I'm after. I ain't im=olite =or crass and I kn=ow ta mind myself in mixed c=ompany an all, but I can assure y=ou, if I'm interested y=ou'll kn=ow, =one way =or the =other."

💕 Give a song that best describes how you see love.

There's two songs I want to put here- this one is nice and fits well and is probably what Shafan would pick.

But this one. Hoo. Okay. There's a reason this at the top of Shafan's playlist. I need you to listen to this with headphones. Get high first if possible, which makes it a borderline spiritual experience. Frankly, if you can, listen to it on spotify or somewhere the quality is better. If you're anything like me you will cry about it so be ready for that. I added this to Shafan's playlist in 2018 and it still fucks me up. It's important, okay??

💔 How do you face the end of love (breakups, being stood up, etc)?

"C=onsiderin I'm usually tha =one endin things, I feel pretty p=osatively ab=out tha end =of a relati=onship. I think pe=ople w=ould be a l=ot happier if they learned ta just end relati=onships that aint makin em happy anym=ore, =or even that are still makin em happy, but are gettin in the way =of s=omethin m=ore important. Relati=onships =ought ta be treated like experiences, I figure. M=ost =of em aint g=onna last that l=ong and n=one =of em last f=orever, s=o why d=o we act like they sh=ould? Embrace love as s=omethin fleetin, and marvel at every day that y=ou get ta experience that miracle again. Let it teach y=ou things, let it change y=ou. And then let it g=o. When it's run its c=ourse, instead a given in ta fear =of change =or fear =of l=onliness and taintin s=omethin that was beautiful with bitter feelings and anger, be grateful f=or what it gave y=ou, and h=ow lucky y=ou were ta have experienced it. And definitely d=o n=ot hunt tha pers=on d=own and set fire t=o their tent!"

💗 How much do you believe in love?

"I believe in l=ove m=ore than i believe in any =other f=orce in tha universe. I believe with en=ough l=ove y=ou can acc=omplish anything. I believe l=ove, f=or each =other and f=or tha w=orld, can save us, if we let it. And maybe that's s=ome sappy n=onsense and it aint practical, I kn=ow. If that l=ove d=ont m=otivate ya ta acti=on it's w=orse than useless. But still, I believe it. I really d=o."

[hareofhrair]

indigo, gold?

Indigo Potion: …their greatest strength, and greatest weakness.

"Already answered this =one, but f=ortunately i am full a great strengths! My other greatest strength after bein fastern'a s=on=ofabitch, is I can make friends with damn near anyb=ody. Weakness is, well, I'm equally g=ood at pissin f=olks =off and s=ometimes I aint t=oo smart ab=out which =one i decide ta do=!"

Gold Potion: …a skill they wish they had, and a skill they couldn’t care less about having.

"Ah, man i wish i c=ould read an write musical n=otati=on. I d=ont care s=o much ab=out kn=owin letters, but i'd kill ta be able ta write d=own all tha s=ongs i kn=ow. There's a c=ouple =of em rattlin ar=ound =out there, =old rusty f=olk s=ongs been ar=ound th=ousands a years, i might be tha =only =one =outside a tha =one backwater nowhere village it came fr=om that still kn=ows em. I kn=ow there's =one place, g=ot wiped =out by dr=ones n=ot l=ong after i last saw it. I'm tha =only =one what kn=ows th=ose pe=ople's s=ongs n=ow. If I d=ont find s=ome=one ta teach em t=oo, they'll be g=one f=orever. If I c=ould write em d=own, maybe they'd last a little l=onger. Hate ta see that shit get l=ost fer g=ood... I tried real hard ta learn back when I c=ould see well en=ough ta try, but it never did make a lick a sense ta me. And these days i couldn't tell sheet music from a shopping list. Eyes are t=oo far g=one."

"Tell ya what i c=ould d=o with=out th=ough! Math! Fuck that shit. Aint never in my life needed ta c=ount higher than ten anyway. Numbers is bullshit. And them fuckin, anal=og cl=ocks. C=onfusin ass... just l=ook =outside ya dingd=ongs, m=oons right there! =Only cl=ock i ever needed. And anyb=ody else ever like... there's tw=o things sittin =on a shelf right, and they l=ook exactly the same, but then y=ou pick tha fuckers up and =one =of em was like, twice tha size a the =other =one but =only y=ou c=ouldn't tell till y=ou was h=oldin em? What tha hell is that ab=out..."

[georgiapeach30513]

I need to know how beau makes out at dinner with lp and the daddies!!!!!!! Especially Curtis hehehe

Lord, Curtis is going to put forth a big effort. This is going to be the first time of seeing Arleigh with a boy, but then obviously her with Beau. AND he gets to meet the whole damn family.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

I Love Our Family

Summary:  movie night with the Everett-Levinson’s

Pairings:  Everett-Levinson’s X Beau

Rating:  cute

Warnings: mild language, a bit of dirty talk, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Beau Adler Masterlist

"You!” you shout playfully at Curtis.  A plate full of chocolate crinkle cookies ready for him, and he’s already salivating.  “Do you know why I made these for you?”

“Because that kid is going to be here any minute.”

“And?” you narrow your eyes at him.

Curtis gives you an eye roll, reaching for a cookie, but you smack at his hand, “And I’m going to be nice or you are going to gag me with your pussy while Ari fucks me.”

“BLECH!” Owin shouts from the living room.  “This is why I don’t live here.  Mom?” that big boy of yours stands in the doorway, “That isn’t punishment.  And did you forget I was here?  Could have said that a bit quieter.  I was trying to eat.  And dad, is it that hard to just behave?  It’s just Bunny bringing a boy.  Let me torture him in a fun way.”

Before Curtis can respond Eva runs in from the back door and pounces on Owin’s back, “Ow, son of bitch.  No biting Duckie!”

“Asshole!”

“Ma, Eva is being mean to your baby!”

“You two stop it,” you grunt packing up a few more snacks for the movie.  “How the hell did I ever survive with this bunch of hooligans.  Anyways.  No!” you turn when Ari comes in ready to take both Eva and Owin to the ground.  “Stop it, don’t you add to this.”

“Princess, I can’t help it,” he may be older than he once was, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing Eva and slinging her on his back, to slam her to the floor.

“Do something with your children,” you huff at Curtis who only stands there chuckling.  “This isn’t funny.  I’m trying to have a nice family time and these three are always wrestling each other.”

“Oh hush, I’ll come after you next Princess.”

“Daddy!” Arleigh giggles as she walks in.  The tall figure of Beau behind her, looks around a bit horrified at the scene in front of him, but then straightens up a bit more when he gets site of Curtis.  “Daddy!  Owie!” the three biggest kids in a giant dog pile.  “Duckie!”

“Oh, now you’ve had it,” Eva growls trying to crawl towards Arleigh, but she’s caught by Owin.  “Bear, let me go!”

“Bunny doesn’t join in on the fights, little Duckie.”

“Ugh, Cub, let me go!”

“You’re all my cubs, now quit acting like heathens and get up and act like somebody before I beat you all.  Go on, up,” they all stand up looking like wounded puppy dogs.  “That’s better.  Now, Beau, I apologize that these three do not know how to behave when company comes over, but they do love each other.  Owin, Eva, introduce yourself.”

You watch your daughter get the biggest smile on her face, that little nose of her scrunching up, and Beau takes Owin’s large hand in his for a shake, even letting out an ow in the process.  “Bear!” Arleigh whines at him.  “Be nice.”

“Just playing with you.  Here’s a little hint, if we don’t pick on you, we don’t like you.”

“And this is my mom,” Arleigh tells him, “You know my daddy, but this is Curtis.”

“I know the kid,” you shoot Curtis a hard scowl and he apologizes quickly, “Sorry.  Beau, I hope you’re hungry.  Our wife doesn’t know how to cook a small amount, but Owie and Ari typically finish off what’s left.”

“Is that chocolate crinkle cookies?” those bright green eyes look over at you, and you know that your husband has the biggest frown on his face.  “My mom makes those, they’re my favorite.”

“It’s her recipe.  Ow,” you look over at Curtis who just pinched you a bit.  “They’re Curtis’ favorite too.  He’d love to share.  Everyone make their trays.  We’re watching the Goonies tonight.”

Beau timidly watches everyone load up their trays of food.  No surprise Owin’s is loaded down completely with everything but the crinkle cookies.  Eva’s isn’t much different, and Ari’s is only a bit smaller than Owin’s.  He grabs a tray, and Curtis extends the plate of cookies as a peace offering.  “They really are the best cookies.”

“Thanks sir.”

“Please, call me Curtis,” Arleigh smiles up at her dad, mouthing out a thank you, and he can’t remember the last time he saw his baby Bunny so happy.  Maybe he had judged Beau harshly because he was a boy.  And maybe he wasn’t so bad, not if he can put that big of a smile on Arleigh’s face.  Maybe, just maybe having him around wouldn’t be so terrible.  He is helping to keep Arleigh’s roots in Boston.  He’s frugal with his money, and he was a simple man, much like himself.

Curtis plops down beside you, and immediately pulls your legs over his, while you lean back on Ari.  As soon as those snacks are gone, you know that their arms will be wrapped around each other as well.  Your odd little union that is the most perfect thing.  “Little One?” hmm you whisper over to Curtis, “Our daughter is dating me.”

“Yeah,” Ari laughs like this wasn’t the most obvious thing.  “Our daughter has found a quiet man that works hard, saves all his money, would do anything for his family including the Bunny, and he’s brooding just like my husband.”

“He likes chocolate crinkle cookies.”

“Aw, Daddy,” you give him a sweet kiss to his nose before his lips, “I bet you two even have more in common than that.  Just be happy that she’s found someone that is simple and kind.  Just like another man I know.  You were her first date.”

“I was.  I expect him to bring her wildflowers too.  I’ll have to have a talk with him on how to treat our Bunny.”

“You do that,” you give him a tap on his chest and settle back down, “Now, lets watch this movie with all our kiddos,” you look out at the lawn, even grown they still sprawl out like little kids.  Throwing candy at each other and trying to catch it with their mouths, or just laid back and relaxed watching the movie.  “I love our family.”

“Me, too.”  “Ya’ll are alright.”  “Shh! The movie is on!”  “Bear your voice is louder than the whispers!” “Ah! Sean Astin is the cutest thing.”

Masterlist